Captivated Redux
by AeonXBorealis
Summary: Alejandro isn't very happy about attending a public high school; he decides to entertain himself by performing a 'social experiment.' How quickly can he become a popular kid? While he believes he can maintain his cool and superior composure, he's about to be jostled by high school politics and an unexpected, but potent infatuation. (Re-write of "Captivated").
1. Chapter 1

_I **hate **Heather..._

_ She's in the position that I want so desperately: that golden position as the unofficial ruler of the school. That raven haired tyrant sits on a golden throne, intimidating some with her ferocity and anger; pushing others into an indecisive corner about her otherwise self-declared authority. There's consequences attached to dethroning the Queen Bee..._

_ Consequences that I relish in just as much as I thoroughly adore the idea of what exactly I'd do if I were in her place. Consider me bitter, hungering for my time in the sun, or more appropriately, my time to smother everyone with my delicious darkness. Just wait, you beautiful ice queen. The clock is ticking..._

…_.Tick, tock, tick, tock..._

-1

:Alejandro:

How many different times have I moved over the course of my lifetime now? I'm not lying when I call myself a 'citizen of the world.' Though, in my heart, I'll always be a Spainiard, waiting for the day that I can return home to my sweet Barcelona; watch the ships glide across the turquoiuse waters from the port. Then, I'd smile as I touch my favorite bull-shaped pendant and imagine the day I can step up as a matador and fight with the ferocious, yet beautiful _el toro_. He shall always be the most majestic of the animal world to me.

Barcelona always crawls into my thoughts whenever I have to settle down somewhere new. Mmm, it's a sobering anchor, a solid purchase for me as I endeavor to climb my newest mountain, face new challenges and obstacles.

I force myself to stop indulging in an over-romanticized inner monologue as I approach the front doors of my new high school. Modest red-brown building, medium-sized student population, and, unfortunately, the fickle and callous setting that trends with most public schools. I begged Mama to kick a few extra dollars into letting me attend private school again; it's so much more intelligent and enriching there. No, she insisted that I could tolerate a year of dumbing down, that it'd make me more rounded and personable because I'd get a slice of how 'real world' people behaved...

Well, I suppose that since I'm stuck here, I'll perform what I like to call a social experiment: Let's see how quickly I can enter the popular crowd here in Cress. I sigh heavily as I barge through the front doors, looking at the droll surroundings. A strange couple passes by: a gingerhaired and gross boy in a grease-stained flannel shirt holding hands with a prim, proper, and well-kempt girl.

Quite the intriguing contrast. Love can be quite universal and blind...Or, that's what I've gleaned from casual observation anyway. Personally, I know how to seduce the fairer sex to a degree most men can only dream about, but I hate the idea of falling head over heels into romantic love. Truly, a female companion is nice, but I treasure my individuality; I enjoy being able to make my own decisions and do as I please whenever I please.

Just as I'm thinking about that very subject, a cute blond wearing a sky blue hoodie walks by, seeming to be searching for a particular someone. By chance, I catch her attention and her green eyes light up; she makes a beeline towards me, extending her hand. "Hi, I'm Bridgette!" she announces cheerfully. "You must be the new exchange student?"

"_Me llamo Alejandro_," I reply, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. "No, I'm not the exchange student, but I wish I was if it meant that I could get to know such a beautiful lady."

"Ah..." She pulls her hand away, recoiling into an intense giggle fit. Her cheeks are a pair of bright red cherries as she regains her composure. "I'm...I'm flattered..."

"Do you suppose I could see you again at lunch time?" I prompt, winking at her. "I realize that our time is so limited now, so I would truly love to meet you again when you're not so busy...?"

There's hesitation and indecision in her face; the nervous way she bites her lip. To push the envelope just a little bit further, I smile charmingly at her. At that, she squeezes her eyes shut for a long moment, face becoming a ripe tomato.

"I'm flattered," she persists, opening her eyes again. "But, I'm taken..."

Just as she says this, her boyfriend shows up: He's lean and muscular with short blond hair and friendly blue eyes. It takes him a moment to recognize the tense atmosphere, considering he's caught up in a conversation with a short, darkhaired kid that is, presumably, the true foreign exchange student.

"Hey Bridge, I found-" He trails off when he sees how flustered she is, then he turns towards me.

I feign innocence, picking at a nonexistant lint speck on my black polo shirt. Smiling, I look up at him, then extend my hand. "Hello, I'm Alejandro!" I supply, shrugging casually as I nod at Bridgette. "Your _girlfriend_ was welcoming me to the school...I'm new."

To an extent, my actions have a certain ambiguity to them; he suspects me, but he can't affirm anything because he didn't see it. His eye twitches and oh, how I want to smirk at his distaste.

"Hey, I'm Geoff," he grunts, waving pitifully.

"Geoff!" Bridgette gasps. "There's no need to be so rude!"

"Yeah," the foreign exchange student choruses.

Geoff makes an irritated noise, his girlfriend and the other guy scruntinizing him. Then he turns towards me again, grabs my arm with a firm squeeze and shakes. "Welcome to Cress," he says, injecting faux cheer into his voice.

The smile pasted to his face says one thing, but his eyes shine with a reserved distrust. I've barely been here five minutes and I've already fostered seeds of wariness. Perhaps I greatly underestimated how intriguing and fulfilling my newest experiment may turn out to be...

"Thank you," I tell Geoff, smiling in a way that could be interpreted as either friendly and endearing or arrogant and challenging. It's obvious which one Geoff picked up on.

[[[

In second hour English, I met Tyler, a lineman for Cress High School's Laser Shooting Squirrels. He's a very enthusiastic guy; friendly, openminded, and one of the lower-tier popular guys. It was way too easy to gain his interest and start an avid conversation. One hint at knowing something about American football and he was roaring like Niagara Falls; he even had a football stashed under his desk. He encouraged me to try out for the team as well as inviting me to sit with him and "the guys" at lunch.

In the art class right before lunch, I met the unexpected star of the Laser Shooting Squirrels: the aggressive and abrasive quarterback Jo. She is quite the impressive lady, not only defying cultural stereotypes, but carrying herself with a strong and unyielding confidence; the kind of confidence that very few teenage girls and even quite a few guys lack. She's not really my type, but I won't deny that she was ferociously attractive in her own, undefined way.

With her, I didn't have to approach her at all. Rather, she sized me up, then shamelessly said that the team needed stronger linemen and outright demanded that I join. I'm not very fond of football, but I promised that I'd join, which, for now, seemed to gain some favor with her.

By lunch, I'd started the unofficial iniation into the popular crowd. I sat with the athletes, watching as they chest-bumped each other, high-fived, and bellowed about the most recent football and soccer games. I actually found a few knowledgable soccer fans, thrilled that I could geek out on one of those so unfortunately rare occassions. The brightest spot of my day thus far was quashed very quickly, though:

A tall, muscular African American guy with a buzz cut slammed a plastic tray laden with burgers onto the table. Everyone at the table went silent, turning their collective gazes towards Jo. Slowly, she turned towards the new arrival, her face scrunching up tighter and tighter. The two shot death glares at each other, gritting their teeth, nostrils flaring.

"Get lost, Lightning!" she growled through clenched teeth.

"You can't tell Lightning what to do!" he seethed. "Lightning sits wherever he wants, whenever he wants to!"

"_I'm _the team captain!" she roared, standing up. "It may not be the official season yet, but when I ban a player off of the team, he's _permanently _banned." She spread her arms in a very short, brusque gesture for emphasis. "I won't say it again after this: _Get lost!_"

"You can't do that!" Lightning folded his arms defiantly, eyes narrowing. "'Cause _Lightning_ is gonna be the quarterback this season! Sha-yeah!"

"Jo..." a timid voice spoke up.

I joined the group of faces that turned and realized that Tyler of all people had worked up the courage to interrupt the growing spat between the team's tyrannical leader and her supposed rival.

"Why don't you give him another chance?" Tyler suggested, smiling meekly. "He _was _our strongest player, right after you..."

Jo considered this for a long moment, bushy brow raised in contemplation. A manic half-smile slid onto her face, her lips twitching slightly. "It doesn't matter how strong a player he is, Tyler..." She shook her head, ran a hand through her dirty blond hair.

Then she turned towards Lightning, eyes blazing. "He's an arrogant asshole that doesn't get the basics of teamwork!" she cried, her voice raising an entire octave near the end of her rant.

"You just don't get it!" Lightning returned haughtily, lip curling back slightly. "I can mow down the competition with my hands tied behind my back! If you guys would just get out of my-"

"Football is a _team_ sport, Lightning!" Jo growled, her face crimson now. "Find another team to bow down and kiss your feet! We're not gonna deal with your narcissistic _shit_!"

Most of the guys had their arms folded and were nodding affirmation, but a few others were glaring at Jo, mouthing insults under their breaths. Considering that I've never seen either Jo or Lightning play, I can't give any honest opinion based on skill alone; I believe that, if this escalates any further, though, it'd be in my best interests to continue siding with Jo. Control issues aside, she has the majority's neon bright sign of approval.

"I'll say it one last time," Jo finished, puffing her chest out. "Get lost, Lightning!"

This time, a few of the guys yelled their consent or whooped.

"Fine!" Lightning harrumphed, folding his arms and rolling his eyes. "Lightning can take a hint." Then smirked in a victorious way. "Lightning didn't want to be quarterback that badly, anyway. Good luck finding a-"

"I _did_ find a replacement!" Jo hissed, her eyes bright.

This surprised Lightning, noticeably knocking down his supreme confidence a few notches. For a brief second, I saw the entire story in the guy's eyes; just how disappointed and devastated he was by Jo's open and merciless hostility.

Much to my chagrin, Jo pointed a declarative finger at me, delighting in furthering her metaphorical victory over Lightning. "My man Alejandro here is gonna be one of our new linemen!"

Unexpectedly, I felt a tad intimidated when Lightning scruntinized me as if I were an unsavory cut of meat. Heart beating in my chest, I reached out and grabbed the table top, squeezing it. Anxiety surged through my veins...

"_He's_ my replacement?!" he cried indignantly. "He's a pretty boy, Jo, just look at the earring. I bet he only lifts weights to score with the ladies and he probably can't even toss a football..."

Everyone was looking at me now, sharing Lightning's skepticism. Anxiety transformed into white hot anger; Lightning may as well have had his face in the bull's eye of a sniper scope. Glaring, I ripped Tyler's football out of his arms, ignoring his yelp of protest.

Then I carefully aligned myself, slowly pulling my arm back and getting ready to throw.

"Looks like I hurt somebody's feelings!" Lightning guffawed, smirking. "Don't take it personally, okay? Just put the football down and save yourself some-"

Before he could finish, I launched the ball directly at his chest, throwing it right in the middle of his condescending spiel. Perfect spiral and fast trajectory, Lightning was helpless to stop the football from punching him in the gut and knocking him to the floor. He started gasping; Jo shot a satisfied smirk at me, and my new fellow teammates shot me varying looks of shock, approval, or wariness.

"That was awesome, man!" Tyler appraised.

I turned to face him and he gave me a high-five. Just looking at his smiling face, I felt a small surge of pride in my chest. Perhaps, I had missed out on an unexpectedly enriching experience when I'd been attending private school last semester...I missed being on a team and getting revered like a _god_ for the mere ability to accurately throw a ball...

[[[

I'm not entirely sure what possessed me to choose Spanish as that one final class to flesh out my class load. The other two languages offered here at Cress are French and German; I've been meaning to brush up on my French, considering I'm nowhere near as fluent in the beautiful language as I'd like to be. Though, truly, who really learns and fully absorbs a language in such a class taught in high school, at a _public school_ no less?

Well, I suppose I have a class that I can use as a second unofficial study hall...as if I really needed one in the first place.

So, I'm settling in for the utter boredom, watching as the portly, bespectacled teacher, Mr. Smithfield, prepares for class. Idly, I scan the class for cute girls; I wouldn't mind spending the hour shooting fluffy and pointless notes back and forth, perhaps schedule a date this upcoming Friday night. Several prospectives: There's a pale blond with gray eyes in the second row, a very perky and cheerful pigtailed redhead in the third row, a long-haired brunette wearing a blindingly bright orange T-shirt a few seats away from me...

My reverie is interrupted by Smithfield gruffly clearing his throat.

"I'm not going to bore you kids with rules and stuff," he announces, smiling. "The rules you've heard from every other teacher today...Just assume that's my rhetoric, too."

I lean back in my desk chair, folding my arms and jiggling my leg. _¡Maravilloso!_ Yet another teacher who wants to deviate from the American school system's centerfold and be the "cool teacher"...

"Let's do something fun," Smithfield continues, clapping his hands. "You're all going to partner up and we're going to spend the first two weeks learning how to _tango_!"

His announcement is met by audible groans, loud squeals, and general apathy alike. Alright, my interest is officially piqued; I raise an eyebrow, scanning my prospectives again. I have a new mission for today: I'm getting a date this Friday night before the hour ends. One lucky lady in this class is going to get full, uncensored Alejandro-brand seduction this week...

"Okay, everybody. You have fifteen minutes to find a partner!"

My eyes are pinned to the pale blond, my first choice of the girls I was looking at-A brownhaired guy in a navy green T-shirt approaches her. The redhead has glued herself to a lanky beanpole with spiky black hair. Blowing out a breath, I start approaching the brunette; she looks incredibly irritated and disenchanted, eyes darting around the room like a pair of pin balls. Oh, how cute, she's shy!

Moments before I can make my move, a darkhaired and brown-eyed boy swoops in. From the way she blushes and smiles, I can tell that she's harboring an intense crush on him. Even if I had beat him out, she wouldn't be very susceptible to my advances anyway.

Of course, the entire class has paired up by now. I'm kind of disappointed and deflated; I'm not usually the one that's the last chosen. Truly, I'm the most attractive and appealing of all of the males in this class. A few of the pairs are disgruntled same sex friends who are shooting death glares at the teacher and griping to each other under their breath.

Lump caught in my throat, I shoot a nervous glance at the teacher. Would he be brash enough to single me out and insist that I help him demonstrate dance moves...? The thought is so embarrassing and degrading that I'm ready to excuse myself from class. Just as Smithfield looks like he's gearing up to segue into the next phase, a student walks in late.

Thank _Dios_! My first reaction is relief, but then I really take a moment to look at who it is: She's five foot seven, only an inch shorter than I am. Long raven hair falls past her shoulders and down her back; she has charcoal black eyes, which make me imagine the first stirs and embers in a fire for reasons I can't describe. Not only that, but she easily beats out the other three in regards to looks with her slender, but slightly muscular body; the way her low-cut black jeans and maroon sweater accentuate and flatter her frame. Her shoulders are squared and her posture confident.

Mentally, I'm wolf-whistling. If I were to rank her by the archaic and ridiculous system that guys use, she's, undeniably, a ten.

And, _I _get the uncontested privilege of being her dance partner._ ¡Bellísima!_

"Heather!" Smithfield rounds on her. "Why are you late?"

"Dance meeting ran a few minutes late..." she replies, rolling her eyes. "So, what are we doing?"

"Learning to tango." Smithfield smiles. "Better find a partner fast, because we're getting started!"

With that, he gestures and the class follows him out of the room and into the hallway. Heather watches with an irritated glare, arms folded and seething.

"I suppose that you wanted to sit through one more dull lecture and then call it a day?" I prompt her, smiling.

"I guess _you're_ my partner?" There's a slight edge to her voice as she warily sizes me up.

"_Sí_," I reply, wondering how to approach making a move on her. "_Me llamo Alejandro_."

"_Alors, vous savez comment parler couramment espagnol_...," she returns in fluent French, tilting her head slightly. "_Je ne suis pas impressionné_."

"_Vous êtes impressionné par ma capacité de parler trois langues différentes, puis_?" I smirk a little, watching her scoff and roll her eyes.

Apparently, I'm going to have my work cut out for me. I'm going to shape my goals more realistically: If I want to impress and score a date with Heather, my best bets are that I may get a coffee date Saturday afternoon. And, I may not persuade her to acquiesce _until _Friday.

"Your grasp of the French language is quite impressive," I start conversationally, following her as she saunters out of the classroom. "Where did you learn to speak such a romantic language so fluently?"

"I'm from Quebec," she replies, rolling her eyes.

"Perhaps, you could tutor me...?"

That comment causes her to scoff and shake her head in disgust. "Get in line, Alejandro."

"The boys are tearing down your door to get you to teach them, I presume?"

"Drop it," she warns, glaring at me. "I'm not interested."

She definitely carries the air and the attitude of an in-demand woman. I'm going to have to approach this from a far different angle if I want to be seen as something above one of the faceless and valueless of the numerous suitors she gets approached by on a daily basis. For now, I'll have to take a different tack.

My mind is whirring, gears clicking as we walk onto the stage. The eccentric Smithfield employed an unsuspecting and baffled blond to help him give a basic demonstration of the tango moves he wants the class to try. A few minutes pass and Heather makes a few disgruntled sounds; she seems to be paying close attention to the blond, observing the dance with a critical eye.

"She does not have a very good sense of rhythm, does she?" I speak up.

Now I'm starting to catch Heather's attention...

"What?"

"She's moving her left foot when she should be moving her right," I observe, touching my chin. "The problem appears to be that she's counting two beats shorter than what Mr. Smithfield is."

"Good," Heather snarks. "I have a _competent_ dance partner..."

"What are you implying...?" I bait coyly.

"Just because you speak Spanish doesn't automatically mean that you'd know how to dance the tango," she replies, shrugging.

"I also know how to Flamenco..."

"You're really fond of aggrandizing yourself, aren't you?" Peeved, she turns towards me, arms crossed. "Enough about me, then," I counter, placing my hand over my heart. "What are _your _strengths, other than speaking beautifully fluent French, that is?"

"You're trying too hard."

"You're not being very conversational..."

"You're annoying!" she cries, gritting her teeth.

I know that my original goal was to try and impress her, but I'm getting a very fiendish, obnoxious delight from teasing her. Oh, how her eye twitches and her shoulders slump; the irritated tone of her voice. It's adorable, so, so adorable!

"What an original insult!"

"Shut up!"

"I would if you weren't continuing the conversation..." I smirk a little, watching as she clenches her fists.

"Alejandro! Heather!" Smithfield approaches us, frowning. "Everyone's dancing already except for you two slowpokes! Get to it, this is a participation grade!"

Once he leaves, Heather groans and rolls her eyes again. Then she turns towards me again, mouth pulled taut at the corners and glaring expectantly. With a fake exasperated sigh, I reach out and take her right hand, then perch my other hand on her waist. Reluctantly, she places her left hand on my hip, then I slowly lead us into the basic dance step.

The two of us are bobbing back and forth like a lazy fishing lure; she glares and seethes at me silently for a full minute. Eventually, she relents, the silence a bit too much to bear.

"You know how to Flamenco?"

"Yes."

"Show me," she demands.

Shrugging, I move my free hand from her waist to her arm. "It's a 12 count dance," I begin, tapping out the beats with the toe of my boot. "I'm not sure if we could properly iniate the Flamenco with the song currently playing...It's geared more towards the 4 count style-"

"Alright," Heather cut me off, smirking. "So you weren't bluffing."

"You were fact checking me?!"

"Duh." Heather's smirk grows. "It's usually too good to be true when a guy says he knows how to dance."

"I thought you said that you weren't interested..." I wiggle a suggestive eyebrow at her.

"Quit pushing your luck," she playfully snaps, wearing a Cheshire Cat's smile.

What an intriguing change of pace. Perhaps, I can get a date with Heather sooner than expected, but honestly, I feel caught off-guard. She knows the aesthetics of the game as well as what I do; I better be wary around this particular_ chica_.

...Why is my heart beating so fast right now? It's like I've been zapped by a bolt of electricity. Holding her hand and looking into those mysterious eyes really isn't helping me either... 


	2. Chapter 2

-2

:Mike:

My heart was a flustered and confused butterfly, circling and diving in drunken circles in my rib cage. Could this moment be any more freaking _perfect_?!

I'm dancing with the most beautiful girl in the world; or, a more accurate description is that I'm tripping over my feet because I'm clumsy and can't really dance, but, the humiliation is worth it. So worth it because I get to look into those chocolate brown eyes and melt. _I'll stop the world and melt with you..._

"Hey, Mike?" my angel asked. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah!" I sputtered.

"You're just...staring," she said with a nervous laugh. "I was getting kinda worried."

"It's hard _not_ to stare! You're beautiful..." I sputtered without thinking. Knowing just how corny and sappy that sounded, I wanted to slap myself across the face. But, for reasons I can't quite figure out, Zoey blushed and giggled at my comment.

"You're so sweet!" she gushed, smiling.

Flabbergasted, I accidentally step on her foot...She yelped and I pull away, eyes wide. "I'm sorry!"

"It's okay," she assured me. Her eyes are strangely dreamy as she reaches out and lightly touches my arm. Smiling, she leans in closer. "Hey, Mike? Wanna go grab something to eat with me after school...?" She starts tracing light circles on my skin and I felt my cheeks burning.

"Sure! Of course! I'll text Cam-"

"Just the two of us," Zoey adds, brows furrowing. "I'm sorry, but...I've been dying to get some alone time with you."

My heart just flew out of my chest. I'm grinning like a monkey who just won the banana jackpot. Oh, God, Zoey, you just made me the happiest boy on Earth right now...

Things get that much more surreal when she sneaks a quick look over her shoulder, checking on what Mr. Smithfield is doing, then she nestles in closer against me. We aren't even trying to tango anymore; Zoey, instead, is using the crook between my chest and shoulder as a makeshift pillow.

"Is that okay?" she followed up.

"Yeah..." I replied, a slight, and embarrassing warble in my voice. Elated, I wrap my arms around her shoulders and pull her into an embrace.

She made a small, contented noise, smiling sweetly. If only we weren't stuck in class right now. All I can think about is what might happen if we were back at my house, sitting on the gray loveseat, vegging out to re-runs of her favorite _Saved by the Bell_-

"_It's about time you stopped being such a boy scout, Mike!" Vito rallied, smirking. "Tonight, you might just get lucky..." _

_I want to vomit at the implications attached to his suggestive eyebrow wiggle, smirk, and conspiratorial wink. "It's nothing like that!" I protested. _

"_Sure..." Vito's smirk just grows. "If you don't make a move, Mike, then I'll take control and do it for you."_

"_You better not!"_

"_I'd be doing you a big favor!" Vito laughed. "Think about it: Zoey's been making all of the major moves up until now.** She** was the one that asked you to dance. Seriously, Mike, she might find your shyness and awkwardness cute right now, but there's a difference between a lovesick puppy dog and a real man."_

_He stopped talking for a long moment, the smugness rolling off of him in waves as he waited for the implication of his words to settle in. Oh, I wanted to sock him in his handsome face so badly. He holds some strange delusion that he's an expert with the ladies just because he had a six-month relationship with a gorgeous Jersey shore girl named Anne Maria. Or, more accurately, he's the only one amongst Manitoba, Svetlana, and I that's had sex. _

_Svetlana really doesn't help matters with how often she asks Vito about what his "experiences" were like. It opens the door for the smug bastard to boast and carry on. I think Svetlana has a crush on him, but she's not doing herself any favors by discussing his previous flame with him._

"_The longer you stand there and let the grass grow, the more likely a real man will swoop in and sweep that hottie off her feet..." he prompted me again, eyes sparkling mischievously. _

Vito ignited a match in me and a mix between anger and indignation is gushing through my veins. I'll gladly prove him wrong: I grab Zoey and give her a fiery, passionate kiss. _Take that, Vito!_

A few moments later, I pull away, coming back to reality as Zoey fixes me with a look sitting between confused and excited. Embarrassment grips me in a vise and I feel like I swallowed magma as my face starts burning. "Zoey..." I gasped helplessly.

She shakes her head and mutters incoherently. Then she places her palm against my chest and pushes me away, extricating herself from our embrace.

"Mike..." she muttered, caught in indecision. "I'm sorry, but I'm not really...I don't want-"

"Zoey, I'm sorry!" I cried helplessly. "I-I don't know what came over me..."

"I'm calling a rain check on our date," she sighed, on the verge of tears.

"Zoey-" I tried to protest, but she shook her head.

"Too fast. We're going too fast..." she murmured.

I took some solace in her lacing her fingers through mine and we started dancing again. The rest of the hour, though, was so bitter and melancholy; she was silent, shooting either hesitant and reluctant looks at me or expressions filled with wariness and disappointment. Yeah, I messed up. Majorly.

In my mind's eye, Vito is sitting on a puce couch, wearing a long white lab coat with the front open and revealing his bare chest; his ridiculous take on a psychiatrist's attire. He patted the couch cushion next to him, smiling in a very knowing way.

[[[

Cam's been my best friend since seventh grade. He's practically a modern day da Vinci, a true intellectual savant: He has an affinity for just about every field of science and a grasp of numerous different mathematical concepts. For example, I've caught the guy cracking open a calculus text book and decoding the equations within "for grins." Though of his vast array of talents, the field that has always been the nearest and dearest to his heart: entomology.

He has an ant farm that he keeps daily tabs on; a tank that he's kept and raised a variety of different insects in, from a monarch butterfly to a praying mantis. Though, his most extensive and, admittedly most disturbing, practice is his careful preservation of butterflies. It's basically a systematic, selective insect equivalent to taxidermy.

With how kind, compassionate, and considerate Cameron is, this is the hobby that surprises you the most. I still remember when I first witnessed Cam in action: He had a gorgeous white Monarch butterfly trapped in a jar. Its' wings glistened with subdued, rainbow reflected light; a living diamond. With a slightly remorseful expression, Cameron unscrewed the jar and carefully reached in, nabbing the butterfly in one swift movement.

He had the beautiful creature cupped in his hands. Breath bated, I walked towards him and looked down at it. As pathetic as this may sound, I had one of those rare moments where you have that epiphany about how impressive life is, where realizing just how complex and dynamic a creature you are as a human being. That butterfly was a symbol of how even the smallest, most delicate life is a-

Quickly, Cam seized the butterfly's abdomen between his thumb and forefinger; gingerly and professionally, he squeezed it. Cam was weeping silently as the butterfly went numb and fell lifeless in his palm.

"W-why'd you do that?" I asked in a reverent whisper. I'd been shaken to my very core, hollowed out like a log.

"I want to preserve its' beauty forever," Cam replied, a reserved passion in his voice. "It's the first white Monarch I've ever found...I doubt I'll find another here."

That night, Cameron made me question humanity, good and evil. My mind was rolling with moral quandaries, the sort of fare that kept Henry David Thoreau content in his isolation. In the midst of it all, that's when I first met my dark side. When I fell into a troubled sleep, he handcrafted my nightmares.

I sat, weeping, in a gray desert with a charcoal sky, cracked and splintered by red and orange cracks, as if magma lay beyond. Then he rode up on a black mare, smiling from beneath the cowl of a robe and gripping the Grim Reaper's sickle.

"You're pathetic," he declared in an accusatory voice. "You're feeling this conflicted over the death of a tiny insect?!"

Frowning, I looked up at him, watching as a transparent ghost fluttered next to his scythe's blade. It was the tiny butterfly, surrounded by an ethereal light.

"You wouldn't care as much if it had been an ant or a spider..." he continued, pulling the cowl back slightly. "It only cut you so deeply because butterflies are considered _beautiful_."

"It wasn't that it was a butterfly!" I protested. "It's that...It was cruel. An unnecessary death for...for what?! A freaking display case? Completing a collection...?!" I gestured helplessly, unable to really pinpoint what exactly what it was that bothered me.

"You're far too sentimental, Mike," he laughed as he revealed his face. My heart started pounding against my rib cage, trying to batter its' way out of my chest. Who I was talking to was the Grim Reaper himself, the sockets of his skull filled with raging fires.

"Learn to face life with a little more cynicism!" the Reaper chuckled, his scythe flashing. "Seriously, there's a certain...undefined charm to the dark side. Try looking at things from Cameron's perspective: The life of a pitiful insect in exchange for an awesome art display? Seems legit to me!"

Right after he said that, I awoke, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat and shaking. Despite the golden sunlight outside, I was deeply perturbed; I swore I could hear rolling, evil laughter echoing throughout the chasm of my mind. My fear and anxiety leaped, intensified by Chester, Manitoba, Vito, and Svetlana feeling the exact same way that I did.

That nightmare wasn't just moral indignation over Cam's hobby; it was my first ever hint that there was something amiss within my mind, my heart, and my soul...

[[[

Since I screwed up so horribly with Zoey and felt like I'd sink into depression or, worse, give Vito an invitation to take control, I decided to hang out with Cam today. Just to get my mind off of things for awhile and, maybe, brighten my mood.

Though, it'll never be just the two of guys ever again, or at the very least, it'll be a very rare occurrence. After I met Zoey and started including her, transforming our dynamic duo into a trio, Cam started branching out and making other friends. That's where the two newest members of our ever-growing group come from: Adam, the science fiction junkie, and Artemis, the art nerd and Adam's best friend. Of course, I'm warming up to these two and, under different circumstances, I'd be thrilled to extensively discuss _Dr. Who_ with Adam or listen to Artie complain about Jackson Pollock.

Today, though, I wish these two would leave and let me talk to Cameron _privately_.

"Your claims are just...unbelievable!" Adam complained, hands splayed. "I know that psychology can be very subjective at times, but I just can't believe that a girl that shared my love of science fiction _wouldn't_ grow up to be a proud nerd."

"Adam...you need to face reality," Artie interjected, her pineapple shaped earrings bobbing. "Heather went to the dark side. She was seduced by the power and the cookies..."

"Do you know how cutthroat and catty little girls can be?" Cameron added, his face sympathetic. "I'd bet money that Heather has an inferiority complex. She succumbed to the prevalent culture to stop getting teased. Then she became aggressive and mean to compensate for and effectively conceal her complex."

"She's _never_ had an inferiority complex!" Adam barked, his brown eyes wild. "She's always been confident and outspoken..."

I sat next to Cameron, chin cupped in my palm. The strong conviction and admiration in Adam's voice was all too familiar to me. Even if I disagreed about his far-too-rosy view of Heather, I could relate to how crazy he was about her. If anyone ever tried to psychologically analyze and dissect Zoey like Cam and Artie were with Heather, I'd be just as defensive.

"I'm sticking with my theory about the cookies," Artie commented with a snide smirk. "I'd plant a great big smack-eroo on _Lightning_ if I was promised a home-made chocolate chip cookie! Mmm!"

"Can you be serious for _one_ minute, Art?" Adam narrowed his eyes.

"I'm just adding some levity to the pity party, Antman!" she replied with a casual shrug. "We all get it: Heather gives you a raging-"

"Quit being so insensitive, Artie!" I spoke up.

This elicited a surprised look from her, as well as Cam and Adam. I'd been silent for the past fifteen minutes; they probably assumed that I hadn't wanted to participate in the conversation.

"Alright," Artie said in a gentler tone of voice. "You're right, Mike. I'm sorry, Antman."

In reply, he just sniffed and reached back, taking her hand and squeezing it. For some reason, that miffed me; my frown deepened and I returned to my bitter silence. If only Zoey were here and I could hold and squeeze her hand affectionately. It's so unfair that Adam can sit here and pine over Heather not reciprocating his feelings, yet still get hugs and support from Artie while I sit here and stew, walking a tightrope walker's line on whether or not I may ever receive the same sort of physical intimacy from Zoey anytime soon.

"Can we make chocolate chip cookies later?" Artie asked a second later, green eyes lighting up.

"You're _not_ getting cookies for bad behavior..." Adam laughed, clucking his tongue.

"Cam, where did you get the inferiority complex idea from?" she prompted a moment later, leaning against Adam. "She's so full of herself! She could stand to be taken down a few pegs..."

"Confidence can be as fake as a hologram," Cam supplied, smiling at her interest. "It could just be an act. A great big act."

"Bullshit!" Adam sighed. "Heather's confident...She always did feel ashamed about admitting to liking Star Wars and Dr. Who to anyone other than me, though. I tried so hard to show her that there's nothing wrong with being called a 'geek' or a 'nerd.' I was called those very derogatory names; she watched me take it, smiling and indomitable..." He tapped his knee, brows furrowed. "I just can't help feeling like she wouldn't be as mean and intolerable if she could accept herself and knew that there was a group that could accept _her..._"

"Ready to tell everybody your grand master plan?" Artie smiled churlishly. "Operation: Seduce Heather! Bring her back to her sci-fi roots, E.T. Phone Home-style!"

Something about how casually Artie mentioned it made me cringe...For a moment, I imagined being in Adam's shoes, pondered what his perceived gap between him and Heather's affections was. Something felt so perverse about what Adam was suggesting; that something had corrupted Heather and that only his love could mold her back to whatever nice, pleasant person he remembered her to be.

Brows furrowed and hands folded, I turned towards Cam, hoping that he shared my reservations.

"Consider me curious, Adam," Cameron conceded, adjusting his glasses. "What did you have in mind?"

That was the last straw; I stood up and stomped past the group, up the stairs, and out of Cameron's basement. Cameron called after me, but I just ignored him, too irked and disbelieving to return. Of course, I might be able to argue my point and, possibly get Adam to stop getting so wrapped up in the irrationality of his one-sided crush and see reason.

My disbelief was only further escalated by the fact that Cam and Artie were on board with whatever his crazy scheme may be. Cam had far higher morals and standards and, Artie? Perhaps she was wound up in as irrational a mindset as Adam in her unrequited love for the guy. God, I know what it's like to have a crush and I'm glad that I've achieved that oh-so difficult goal post that is mutual attraction with her, but if she didn't reciprocate my feelings, I wouldn't be chasing after her. I wouldn't...

I run outside and start jogging in the bright daylight. These thoughts are so troubling; I feel my own guilt prickling and poking at me in my chest. The wisest course of action would be to give Zoey time, but I feel like I need to take action _now_. Sighing, I pick up the pace.

Cam's calling after me, followed by the pleading voices of Adam and Artie; there's even heavy footfalls. Of the three of them, Adam's the most likely to catch up with me. I grit my teeth, preparing to see his concerned face start floating into existence next to me at any moment now...

"_Why don't you join in on Adam's scheme, Mike?" an all-too-familiar and chilling voice prompts. _

Ice is running through my veins. I wouldn't be surprised if my breath started coming out in an opaque mist.

"_I can just imagine the delicious chaos that would ensue! I'd love to see Adam on a downward spiral into depression...watch Heather question herself. Picture it, the vision is just beautiful!"_

It feels like a fist is rising in my chest, squeezing the air out of my heart and my lungs. Reality seems to slow down and stutter, background noise in comparison to the dark silhouette and the crackling, leaping flames in my mind's eye. I'm starting to lose control, my consciousness dribbling away and running somewhere into the recesses of my brain like water in a drain pipe.

_Mal flips his hair back, pushing his bangs out of his face so that I can see the way he stretches my face to unnerving malevolence and sadistic delight. This is the one alternate personality that I've never been able to face directly or deal with amicably. When Mal comes out, he assumes complete and utter control. I'm kneeling at his feet, my head bowed. _

_All he has to do is place his hands on my narrow shoulders and push me down. He knows that he's assuming control. God knows how long I'll be locked up here in my mind now, what horrible things he'll do. _

"_Don't be so glum, Mike," he said in a faux reassuring tone. "I'm going to have so much fun! Aren't you happy for me?"_

_I glared up at him, lips curled back. Feebly, I try to employ the calming and repression techniques that my psychologist Dr. Renard taught me to use whenever Mal stirred. Though, of course he realizes exactly what I'm trying to do; he slaps me across the face, then kicks me and plants the heel of his shoe against my cheek. He pushes down, hard, flashing a victorious smile down at me. _

"Hey, Mike!" Adam called as he finally caught up with me. "You okay?"

Donning Mike's trademark 'angel' smile, I turn towards Adam and nod. "Yeah!"

"Why did you take off like that...?" Adam frowned, studying my face.

"Running helps me think," I replied with a casual shrug. "I was going to come up with ideas on how to help you with winning Heather over." 


	3. Chapter 3

-3

:Alejandro:

My mother fixes me with a knowing look coupled with a catlike smirk as she walks past me with a big plastic green basket.

"You're going to school all dressed up like that?" she quips, smiling. "You look like a penguin, _mi hijo_!"

"Mama...This is casual wear..."

Her smile just grows wider, revealing her dimples. "It just seems so unbelievable..." she laughs. "You usually don't reach penguin mode until the _second_ month in a relationship at the very least. I'm getting really curious about this mystery girl."

I frown slightly, pulling at the lapel of my black leather jacket, wondering if it is too much. In addition to a black silk shirt and tie, yes, I suppose I look more like a toned down prom date than cool and casual. My mind was lost in such a fog this morning; it seems so unlike me to choose such inappropriate attire. And, to think, I was extremely pleased with myself when I looked in the mirror barely fifteen minutes earlier...

"Do I smell pineapples?" she adds with a devious wink. "I'm not sure if Mystery Girl will be impressed by the fruit smell, Alejandro. Figure out her favorite flower's scent and then spritz that on when you really get on her bad side."

"Mama!" I groan, blushing in utter embarrassment. Like every loyal son, I love _mi madre_ dearly, but she can be so relentless with her teasing...

"I know how much you adore pineapples, Alejandro," she says apologetically as she continues down the hall. "I'll make you a pineapple cake that you can share with your friends after school. Okay?"

[[[

I'm still a little miffed about Mama ruffling me as I wander down the hall towards my first class. I suppose she's nowhere near as condescending or brutal as my older brother Jose would get (She says she was just like him as a teenager, assuring me that he would mellow out with age), but regardless, it grits me a little.

Muttering under my breath, I pull at the lapels of my brown blazer. Perhaps, it is not necessarily Mama's commentary that is bothering me, though. So many times this week, Heather has unintentionally entered my thoughts. It's only Friday and I'm starting to desire so much more from our interaction than a coffee date or our limited interaction within class. What chills me a little is that I could swear she's sending me subtle hints that she wants the same. I just wish I wasn't so uncertain; it's...unsettling that I cannot read her as accurately as I can with other girls.

She is challenging, like a very intricate and complex Rubix cube; figuring out where I stand with her is thrilling and I enjoy the chase, but I hate the way she makes me-

I've been pushed to the floor, two people sitting on my back and weighing me down. Face turning red, I can feel the impatience and frustration squiggling around within me, growing with each passing moment they don't get up off of me. They're arguing with each other, ignorant of the fact that they are crushing my spine.

"Do you know how long I spent working on that last night, Antman?!" a female voice cried. "Six hours...Six freaking hours!"

"I'll help you fix it..." a tenor male voice echoed.

"No, you'd sit there, pop in a sci-fi B-movie, and distract me!" she protests, a slight edge to her voice.

"You got me there," he admitted with a sheepish chuckle.

Finally, the two of them stood up moments before I was about to cuss them out with a slew of very colorful words. Gritting my teeth and brows furrowed, I was resisting the urge to give them a piece of my mind. To calm down, I took a few deep breaths and sat up, starting to massage my forehead; I'm truly not my composed self today.

"Either that or you'd whine about how badly you're striking out with Heather..." the girl adds crudely.

_Heather...?_ The name made my heart speed up a little bit. Of course, I snapped up and looked at the two who had fallen on top of me, part of me hungering to know about _mi angel_ and the other out of perverse gossip-collecting purposes.

The boy appeared to be five foot seven, average height, with unruly black hair and brown eyes. He wore a winter green T-shirt with Star Trek's Captain Kirk on the front and, despite being a real-life geek intern from the _Big Bang Theory_ group, he looked like he worked out a little bit. The girl was definitely a complementary and eccentric sight: Her hair was bleached white and she was wearing yellow contacts...pineapple earrings dancing just beneath her earlobes.

Fate loves to taunt me for my embarrassing and bizarre choice in personal aphrodisiac...

"What?!" The boy was aghast.

"You heard me," she replies, narrowing her eyes. "I'm sick of hearing about your raging boner, Lover Boy..."

"Last night, you-"

She holds up her hand, mimicking him. "Heather, my sweet, lost soul. I'll use the limitless powers and strength of my mighty sonic screwdriver to lead you back to the path of the righteous and the basement-dwelling, David Tennant-worshipping geeks!"

"Why are you being so caustic, Artie?" He reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder, studying her with concerned eyes. "Is this about me eating the last piece of pizza? Are you upset that Cam doesn't like_ Adventure Time_-?"

"It's about you being absolutely _clueless_!" she cries, swatting his hand away. "Remember yesterday? When I approached Heather to ask her if she wanted to hang out with us...?"

"Yeah...She is intimidating..."

"Intimidating?!" Artie spread her arms in a wide sweep. "She's _brutal_, Adam. She called me every name in the book..."

"They're just words!" Adam argues. "Labels. You're stronger than-"

"It's the way she delivered them," Artie squawks, lips trembling. "Her glare sliced me to the very core; she has such uninhibited, spiteful malice. I've never been so scared in my freaking life...I peed my pants..."

"You were scared of _Heather_?!" Adam snickers. "You can prank Lightning and stomach having a preying mantis climb all over you, but-"

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, Antman, but you're seriously underestimating her..."

"She can't be _that _bad!" This idiot really does not know Heather on a personal level. "Underneath that mean, nasty veneer, there's still that nice, compassionate soul."

"Then why don't _you_ approach her?!" she challenges, eyes blazing and fearful.

"Artie, you know what the plan entails!" he placates. "Only a _girl_ can breach Heather's social circle and gain her trust...I wish you hadn't dyed your hair. If you had a more natural hair color and started wearing more fashionable-"

"I'm not doing that!" she screams, her face dark red. "You're my best friend no matter what, Adam, and I'd do just about anything for you, but I can't do that..."

"It's not just for me!" Adam begs, eyes desperate. "What about her? A fellow geek? There'd finally be another girl-"

"I've been hanging out with Zoey; _she's_ already part of the group! I don't have to drastically change anything about myself to be_ her _friend!" Artie snaps. "Quit pushing, Adam, I'm not doing it."

"Art, please! Just for one-"

"No."

She squares her shoulders and turns away, but just before that, I can see tears sparkling at the edges of her eyes. As she walks down the hallway in long, purposeful strides, I notice a slight wobble in her knees, breaking her illusion of trying to appear resolute and angry.

From what I can derive, Adam has his sights set on Heather himself, making him, I suppose, some sort of competition for me. Though, rather than approaching her like a real man, he's trying to get his friend to ask her out on his behalf. He stares after Artie, yearning and confusion etched into his face. While I find his cowardice absolutely pathetic, I think I'll cut him a break and play friendly matchmaker.

I stand up, brush off my jacket and pants, then clear my throat. "Hey, will she be alright?" I prompt him politely, acting as if I just arrived on this scene.

He looks towards me with deer-in-the-headlight eyes and a guilty frown. "I hope so..."

"What are you doing just standing here?!" I encourage, fixing him with a horrified stare. "Your girlfriend needs you..."

"She's...not my girlfriend," he replies. His facial expression says everything, from the slope of his frustrated brows to his frown. There's so much strain and hesitation in how he admits that very fact.

"Why not?" I subtly start to sow those psychological seeds that will lead to him pondering about it until the early hours of the morning and then act on it. "She's quite lovely..."

"So, you're interested in her?" he replies, smiling in a reserved way. "If you're thinking about going after her, don't. It's usually better to give her some time to cool off and think. Just giving you a heads up: She's a little bit of a hothead."

"It sounded like _you_ need to go after her..."

At that, he looks up at me, brows raising a little. Then he grunts and glares, folding his arms across his chest. "Thank you for the advice, but I think you need to mind your own business."

"Alright." I shrug and walk away, casting one last look over my shoulder at the misguided nerd. Apparently, the instigator of his argument with the white-haired Artemis was a paper-mâché

...pineapple. The wire skeleton of it is slumped and leaning against some nearby lockers, a bunch of golden and orange paper bits scattered everywhere around it.

Bile starts churning and rolling in my chest as Adam leans down and starts picking at the art project's carcass; trying, in vain, to repair the destruction...

[[[

Today is not going very well for me so far. As if witnessing a pair of strangers' romantic angst and drama wasn't enough, I found a...dirty jock strap in my locker.

All week, Lightning has been shooting dirty looks at me, punching his palm with his fist, and gritting his teeth. I mistakenly wrote it off as harmless; that if I ignored him long enough, he would give up and direct his full angry attention back towards Jo.

I see him standing beside the water fountain out of the corner of my eye, high-fiving another kid with a bright green Mohawk. Frowning, I close my locker, then turn around right towards where he is standing, shooting a knowing look at him. He tries to play coy for a moment, then he shoots a death glare at me. The delinquent mutters something, giving Lightning an impatient look, then Lightning slaps a twenty dollar bill into his hand as he starts marching towards me.

Part of me is screaming for me to turn around and just leave. If Lightning has access to dirty laundry, he might have something else crammed in his shorts pocket that can leave stains and ruin clothing. I'd rather not face that possibility, but I'd rather not risk this one-sided rivalry on the part of Lightning escalating any further. So, I stand still, feet planted firmly on the linoleum, waiting patiently and battling with very intense irritation.

"What do you want?" I demand when he stands only a foot away.

"You embarrassed me in front of my teammates!" Lightning boomed, his face the angry thunderclap of what preceded his namesake. "_Nobody_ makes Lightning look bad! Got it?"

"_You_ insulted me and underestimated my abilities," I reply, clenching my fists as I try to maintain my composure. "Though, I suppose that I overreacted and I apologize for my actions. Perhaps we can come to an amicable resolution?"

"Sorry doesn't cut it," he grunts, folding his arms. "Lightning declared war on you after you stole my s-I mean, threw that football at me!" After that, Lightning leans in and grabs a fistful of my shirt, threatening in a low voice, "The war doesn't end until _Lightning_ wins."

I reach up and grab his wrist, tightening my grip until he grunts and loosens his. This is already escalating towards a point where I doubt that I can properly reason with him. Anger dances in those dark pupils and from the way he grits his teeth and glares at me, I think his intention is to fight me. His free hand is clenched in a very noticeable fist, the knuckles turning white.

"What does Lightning consider_ winning_?" I bait, pressing down on his wrist in a warning way.

"Two black eyes, swelled lips, a cast..." he rattles off, in the very furnace of his anger.

The longer I have to stare at that vengeful face, all I can think about is dragging this buffoon out to the football auditorium and kicking his sorry ass. If I beat him up and declared the prehistoric brand of alpha male status, it would ultimately get him to back off and leave me alone. Though, logic overpowers my male machismo; Lightning is too stupid to recognize another human being's superiority, elicit or implicit.

Jo likes to believe that he's an arrogant narcissist. Truly, if she saw how he was behaving now, she would see the real story: He is nothing more than an arrogant asshole with a raging superiority complex.

"So, you want a fight?" I let go of his wrist and take a step back, folding my arms behind my back.

"Sha-yeah!" Lightning gives a curt nod, raising his fists. "I'm gonna whoop your ass, pretty boy! Meet me at the football auditorium five minutes before class starts...I want the entire team to see this."

He smirks and I return his expression with my own devious smirk. Then he straightens and turns away, confidence in each retreating step. _Dios_, I suppose I can effectively block and keep him occupied for five minutes. As much as he thoroughly irritates me, it would do me far more favors to help him rather than perpetuate Jo's propaganda about him or stoop to his level and fight fire with fire.

It's been awhile since I've played mediator, but I've played devil's advocate so much that I can probably employ similar tactics to place a temporary band-aid on the strained relationship between Lightning and Jo. It's getting a bit tiring playing the role of knight in shining armor; the chain mail and metal never quite fit right, feeling clunky, bulky, and awkward on my frame.

[[[

Only a few minutes until lunch. Time feels like a lead weight. Dread rumbles in my stomach; if I show up late to lunch, I can only imagine that Lightning will see that as enough of a justified excuse to saunter over to the football table and start boasting about how he scared me off. He may not sell Jo on the idea, but a few of the other members of the team are impressionable morons that blindly worship the ground that he walks on. There is already enough quiet tension amongst the team as it is; the only factor keeping the pro-Lightning members from acting out is that they don't want to lose their chance to be on the team this semester.

If Lightning had a little more common sense, he would have appealed to his teammates first and forced them to help convince Jo to let him back on the team. Nothing can completely quash how ferocious of a grudge she holds against him, but she would compromise for the sake of keeping the team together and her coveted role as team leader. He may very well come to that conclusion today: His ultimate vindication and second chance lies in getting _me_ kicked off of the team.

I'd rather be seen as the faithful new ally that convinced the team to let him return and get a second chance. How I can successfully delay Lightning until after sch...

...Heather is standing next to my locker. One red boot heel is propped against the lockers behind her, a waterfall of raven hair sliding around her shoulder, past her chin; she is studying the screen of her smart phone, lips pursed slightly. My heart starts beating a little faster; a few tingles race down my spine.

"Hey Alejandro!" she greets me as I get closer. She takes the measure of switching off her cell phone and placing it in her jeans pocket, giving me her full attention.

"Hello gorgeous," I reply, smiling at her, watching as she rolls her eyes.

"I need to ask you a favor..." She narrows her eyes and purposefully brushes my arm.

"Go on."

"My cousin is getting married this weekend," she groans, frowning. "My parents are forcing me to go, and since I don't want to die of utter boredom...Would you be my date?"

"I'm being chosen over a few hours of grueling boredom?" My heart is an exploding supernova in my chest; I can't wait to see this beautiful girl in a, hopefully very form-fitting, formal dress! "Oh, my self-esteem is aching."

"There are other guys I could ask..." Heather chides, a warning edge to her voice. She can't hide the smile hovering at the edges of her lips, though.

"You are not helping your case very much."

"When you're not being obnoxious, you're a great conversationalist," she surrenders, lowering her facade a little bit. "You're...also a good dancer."

"You're the best dance partner I have ever had the privilege to dance with," I return.

"Remember that you're there to dance with _me_," she warns, starting to blush terribly. "I'll smack you so hard you have a red hand print across your face if you even try to dance with another girl."

"This will only be our first date! You're starting to get jealous this soon...?"

"It's _not_ a date!" she protests.

"You technically asked me to be your date."

"That's a label, not an event!"

"What will you introduce me as to your family, then?"

"A friend!" she blurts, flustered. "A good friend."

"Will they believe that?"

"You better keep this crap to a minimum next Saturday," she grumbles, looking towards the floor.

"What are you referring to...? Could you be more specific?" I grin at her and she makes a few frustrated noises, flapping her hands in a motion similar to birds in flight. "I'll be on my best behavior," I amend, winking at her as her face turns bright red.

"You can be so difficult sometimes!" she complains. "Why are you so...irritating?!"

"Keeps things interesting, does it not?" I reach out and gently take her wrist, stroking the back of her hand. "Could we meet up a bit sooner than next Saturday? To break the ice a little bit more? I would sincerely enjoy getting to know you better."

She shivers, her dark eyes hesitant for a moment. Then she keeps me waiting for an anxious heartbeat, my own cheeks starting to burn from frustration and excitement all at the same time. Smiling in a somewhat devious way, she squeezes my hand back. "What did you have in mind, Alejandro?"

"Coffee."

"Alright," she agrees, smirking. Then she pulls her hand away from mine, pulls a Sharpie pen from out of her back pocket, and scribbles her number on my outstretched palm. "Don't disappoint me, Alejandro."

Before I can respond, she turns away and heads towards the cafeteria. She compensated for the possibility of me running after her; a buxom blond and a short brunette with glasses run up to join her on the way to lunch. I just watch her go, letting an idiotic smile unfold on my face, and hearing my heart howl like a lone wolf at the full moon.

That very moment, the realization hits like a ton of bricks: I'm not experiencing fleeting attraction towards Heather, but a full-blown crush. The emotions are stretching and twisting me like taffy; I can't allow myself to surrender so easily. Yet, I'm not entirely averse to the possibility of Heather and I being something more than a brief fling. It's too soon for anything major to happen; the two of us have only been acquainted for barely a week so far.

Oh,_ mi angel_, I can't wait to dance with you again today...

[[[

"Hey, Latin Legs! Where have you been?" Jo trumpets when I reach the cafeteria.

I've been so ecstatic and lost in a haze for the past two minutes, reality rockets back at full force. Pupils shrinking, I scan the lunch table; Lightning smirks from the chair next to Jo. Things get that much more surreal when I notice that he's...holding her hand?

As my heart starts beating a little more slowly, I hate my ratcheting anxiety. Not just Jo and Lightning are looking at me, but the rest of the team as well. In a few moments, I can just-

"I have some bad news," Jo admits, a hint of remorse in her voice. "I had to cut your buddy Tyler from the team."

After she mentioned it, I looked towards where Tyler usually sat and found an empty chair. Two of the other guys looked at the same empty spot with similar remorse, shooting me conspiratorial sympathetic glances. I won't deny that I was a little disappointed; I had developed a soft spot for the bumbling, awkward fanatic.

"How did he take it?" I ask her, almost hating the relief starting to wash through me.

"He was upset," Jo replies. "But, he took it better than I thought he would...He plans on practicing more to improve for next year and to join the soccer team. For now, though, he ran off with his girlfriend Lindsay. He'll be back at the table tomorrow, though." Jo smiles. "He may not be an official member of the team, but he's definitely been the most cheerful and spirited! The Squirrels can always use that kind of support!"

Something still doesn't feel quite right, especially when Lightning pulls out a nearby chair, then motions for me to sit next to him. His gaze is friendly, but every gut instinct says not to trust him; one of the chair's wheels is broken. Even if it appears that Lightning is cozying up to Jo right now, I still have a resonating feeling that he still intends to meet up with me after school.

"Sit down, Latin Legs!" Jo enthuses.

"Yeah!" Lightning choruses. "Join us, buddy!"

"Ah...I'm sitting with someone else today," I fudge, excusing myself. "I promised my new girlfriend that I would be joining her today."

A few of the guys at the table whoop; Jo and Lightning both give me a thumbs up. My unease only grows as I give a short wave to them all and wander off. While I feel kind of guilty that I may have started pre-emptive rumors that Heather and I are exclusive when we haven't even had our first date yet, I feel that the measure was necessary. I just could not play-act and feign fondness for Lightning right now. If I was feeling normal, I could do so perfectly, but I'm not myself today.

Now, to find Tyler and hear _his_ side of the story...I'm pretty sure that Jo glossed over many pertinent details. The largest question I have, though, is: How did Jo and Lightning go from being intense rivals to a casual couple over the course of an hour?

Thinking about it, though, Jo was acting strangely in art class today...

I find Tyler sooner than I thought he would; apparently, Lindsay is Heather's buxom blond friend. Poor Tyler looks incredibly glum and dispirited, his chin cupped in his palm as Lindsay leans in towards him and coos encouragement in his ear. Of course, Heather is fixing me with a look caught between skepticism and bemusement. Sitting at her table would impede upon my chances to become exclusive with her; I can just sense that it would be crossing a territorial boundary at this point in time.

"Excuse me," I prompt, deciding to take my chances.

"Hey Alejandro..." Tyler sniffs, looking up at me. "I'm not really in the mood to talk right now, but I'll see you at your first game, okay buddy?"

"Is what Jo told me true?" I ask.

All three girls at the table are looking at us, probably ready for some sort of gossip. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the glimmers of a smirk on Heather's lips._ Chica_, you can be so cruel, can't you?

"No," Tyler flat out replies, frowning. He looks hesitant for a full moment, but then he clenches his fists and squeezes his eyes shut. "Lightning and Jo started dating yesterday. At lunch today, he started arguing with Jo, demanding that you get cut from the team, Alejandro. She refused and their compromise was...kicking _me_ off instead."

Alright, that confirms my suspicions. I feel ridiculous for even entertaining the notion that Jo would kick me off of the team; I'm her trump card against Lightning. As much as I abhor the very notion, I'm caught in-between the bizarre and tumultuous relationship between Jo and Lightning. Due to their strange approach to one another, they will always defer to me and use me as a shield against the most powerful blows they direct at one another...

Anger rolling through me like a giant wave, I look into Tyler's despondent face and promise: "I'm kicking Lightning's ass and quitting the football team."


	4. Chapter 4

-4

:Mal:

"Artemis has officially bowed out..." Adam reported a bit remorsefully. "It was kind of a long shot that we could insert somebody into Heather's personal circle anyway."

"It's still possible," I interject, wearing Mike's hopeful smile. "Artie is a bit overwhelming and abrasive. Don't tell her I said that-Heather needs to be approached by someone more kind, sweet, and gentle. Like I said from the beginning, Zoey would be_ perfect_."

"I was really hoping Artie would cooperate..." Adam persists, brows furrowed. "If she became best friends with Heather, then...when I did start dating Heather, she wouldn't be excluded. You understand, right, Mike? It'd be a situation like you, Zoey, and Cameron. A dynamic trio!"

Every time that sweet, saccharine smile slides onto this fool's face, I wish I could strangle him. He's more naïve and irredeemably idealistic than Mike is; at least Mike is grounded and in tune with reality, so much so that he can fend for himself and make rational decisions. The fact that Adam makes it possible for me to give Mike any kind of credit; that, in and of itself, is an impressive feat and why Adam holds such a high spot on my current hit list. Number 2, right after his precious Heather.

"I understand, but really, it'd be far easier to sell Zoey on our ultimate goal," I counter. "Zoey sees the merit in what you want to do. Besides that, Zoey is more feminine and fashion-oriented."

"You're right," Adam sighs heavily, biting down on his lip. "We should have went with your whole variation on the idea in the first place..." He sighs again. "Then, Artie would still be game."

Note to self: I have a sneaking suspicion that I may rattle Adam's proverbial cage just a little bit more if I target Artemis instead of Heather with future schemes. That's kind of a shame, considering that snarky little firecracker is the only one I was close to tolerating out of her, Cameron, Zoey, and Adam. She may not remember me, but I remember her _very_ fondly; our reunion will be quite deliciously entertaining for me.

"I have an alternate idea, as well..." I start scratching my chin, Mike's favorite nervous habit. "I heard rumors that Heather has her sights set on somebody. You need to make a move, and soon!"

"Who is it?!" His eyes are wide and bugged. I'm imagining a preying mantis ripping off his head and devouring it whole, leaving behind a writhing-

"Alejandro Burromuerto," I reply automatically, suppressing my sadistic smile.

"I don't know who that is..."

I know full well who he is, from his zodiac sign to his favorite food. Even if Adam did know who he was, the squirt doesn't stand a chance. I'm half-tempted to orchestrate a situation where Alejandro beats the living shit out of him. Oh, how gloriously fun that would be to watch!

"Well...I think the P.E. teacher is partnering us up today for a hike," I mention casually, smiling. "Get aggressive today, Adam! Make your move!"

He shoots an uncertain look at me, his eyes wide and watery like a puppy's...

"You can do it!" I encourage, feeling bile rising in the back of my throat. "You're a confident guy! Girls find confidence attractive!"

"Alright!" Adam smiles, puffing out his chest. "Wish me luck, Mike!"

Go rot in a hole and die...

[[[

Mike and Zoey signed up for the same damn P.E. class. Of course, I mopped up Mike's mess with her; I need the gullible twit for my plans, but at times, it's so easy to manipulate her and gain her favor, I question why I even bother. All I have to do is look at her with a big dopey smile and watering eyes; she sighs and falls all over me.

We're out hiking for the hour as two-person pairs; I knew I smelled something familiar on the teacher a few times. If she's not careful, her favorite, job-risking illegal habit will get busted. Another pet project to add to my list of things to do...Life just keeps getting better and better, presenting such wondrous, bountiful opportunities for demented little me!

I get a little wary when I see two couples sneak off into the nearby woods to fool around; Zoey notices them too, her brown eyes uncharacteristically mischievous. Honestly, I wouldn't mind making out-it's been a long time since I last took control-but, I'd want to do far more than just kiss. Very freaky, unmentionable things. Things that Zoey probably wouldn't even dream of doing_._

Besides, I don't really have time for that right now and admitting to these heinous cravings would definitely rat me out...

"Hey, Zoey!" I smile at her, squeezing her hand. "There's a secret spot here in the forest that you just _have_ to see! It's beautiful, not as beautiful as you of course, but-" I drop off into awkward laughter and shifting eyes.

On cue, she giggles and blushes in the same manner an automated electronic doll does.

"Okay, Mike! Show me!"

I grab her hand tighter then take off running into the woods, laughing like a moron with Zoey echoing. It'd be so easy to let go of her hand and send her twisting towards a tree, then watch as she tripped and rolled in the mud. Funny as hell, but she's more resilient than my hopeful sadism is giving her credit for.

"Hey, Zoey!" I decide it's time to work my magic. "Did you know that Adam has a crush on Heather...?"

"Artie mentioned it a few times..." Zoey admitted, shooting me a strange look. "Why?"

God, she used to be Firecracker...So much has changed about her. She's gone soft; soft and as easily burnable as a marshmallow. I'll be the flames that lick her and turn her pitch black.

"Do you think you can convince Heather to ask him out?" I smile hopefully at her. "I tried to get him to summon up the courage to do it today, but...he might just need a _little_ extra push!"

"I don't know..." Zoey frowned, brows furrowed. "Artie has such a huge crush on him, Mike. She's my friend; I can't go behind her back like that!"

"She's been on board with him going after Heather ever since the crazy idea first entered his head..."

"I don't know," Zoey persists, unwavering in her ridiculous loyalty to Artemis the fop.

"Didn't you mention one time that you wondered if Heather had a secret soft side?"

"Yeah!" She smiles brightly. "I remember when that jerk Scott offered to go out with me in seventh grade and then started teasing me and saying he was joking shortly after...Heather stood up for me and stomped on his toe! I'm sorry, but, it was funny to see him howl in pain like that!" She laughs a little and I sneak a conspiratorial smile; maybe there's a secret dark side to Zoey, just like there is with Cameron...

"Maybe it's time you befriended Heather!" I suggest. "I'll stop pushing Adam's agenda, but, seriously...You've mentioned it a few times! Maybe Adam has a point; there may be more to the queen bee than we know. At one time, she had a soft and squishy core, until she became rotten. She's a radioactive marshmallow..."

"Radioactive marshmallow...?"

"It could happen!"

Petty high school dating drama...If these kids had seen and experienced what I have, they'd get worldly perspective and awareness; pissing their pants and hiding in Mommy's basement for the rest of their lives because their fragile consititution couldn't handle the stress!

Zoey's hand is sweaty. Is your attraction to Mike making you _that _fluttery and nervous, sweetie...? You have such poor taste in men, not nearly as bad as Artie's inexplainable crush on Adam, but I digress.

"I don't think a radioactive marshmallow would taste very good..." Zoey titters.

It'd burn through your intestines and kill you from the resulting radiation poisoning...You just gave me a pleasant topic to dream about tonight!

"You'd become Super Girl!" I spout, smiling doofily. "You'd be such an awesome sight to see in that never-ending blue sky..."

"Only if you're my Super Man!" she giggles.

"Of course!"

I'm dreaming about _you_ eating that radioactive marshmallow tonight if you keep making me sick to my stomach with this obnoxious banter...

A golden opportunity has arisen: Eris, my favorite goddess, are you smiling on me today? Here come that little bastard Adam and the queen bee bitch herself. Somehow he managed to glue himself to her before the other desperate horndogs in P.E. class could. She has her arms folded tightly across her chest, glaring like she's sucking on a lemon; Adam is a bright and beaming bloodsucking gnat. Behind them is a familiar rocky outcropping and my intended destination: Cress' famous Death Drop!

The adrenaline is singing in my veins, bringing me to that rare euphoria that comes when chaos is so close within my reach, I can taste it. I can barely contain myself; I'd gladly reveal myself here and now, my lusting for this is so intense! Somehow, I manage to restrain myself, biting down on my gums to suppress my sadistic, face-splitting grin...

"Hey Zoey, there's your chance!" I encourage, grabbing her forearm and pointing at Heather.

She smiles and scoffs shyly, casting her gaze towards the dirt and rocks underfoot.

"If you don't go, I will!" I call at her in a sing-song voice. I race towards Heather and Adam, watching Zoey for a long moment, then once her attention is diverted, I dive into the nearby flora and fauna. Slowly, I head towards Heather and Adam in covert cover, my knees shaking and jiggling; I have to calm down, or else I'll ruin it.

Little bit closer and Zoey and Adam are the perfect distraction for Heather. Oh, how perfect! I'm hiding in a bush that's right behind Adam; I don't even hide my grin as I carefully reach through and past the leaves, seize his ankle and rip the khaki material of his pants. One strong yank, and he loses his balance, tumbles, and rolls over the dirt and rocks. A rolling barrel, galloping towards Death Drop. He's shrieking like a banshee; truly, he embodies the fate I always wished would befall his hero Captain Kirk when I was young!

My heart pounds like a congo drum in my chest; I'm a giddy little kid, biting my nails at that cliffhanger moment in the movie!

Holy crap! Heather is far more distraught and distressed than I thought she'd be. Look at those long legs pump; she's left all caution to the wind, willingly risking breaking one of her carefully manicured nails...Bah-dum-dada-dum-dada-dum-dum-dum..._Will she make it in time?! _

At the last moment, she rolls towards the ground and grabs Adam; both of them fall over the side of the precipice. My heart is hammering so fast, I swear I'm nanoseconds away from a heart attack! A heart attack from the most intense and fulfilling moments of my-

"_What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Mike rumbles. _

_Took the little twerp long enough to resurface; I've managed to maintain full control for the past four days! He's still manacled to a giant boulder, but he isn't despondant and helpless anymore. I hate to admit it, but he almost initimidates me with that ferocious glare on his face, the way he clenches his fists. All I can do is smirk with satisfaction. Come at me, you living toothpick! _

"Mike!" Zoey shrieks at the top of her lungs. She grabs Heather's wrist and is trying, piteously, to pull the combined weight of Heather and Adam back up over the precipice.

_Mike reaches down and grabs the manacle, stripping it away and breaking it with his bare hands. Then, in that golden rare moment of embodying his favorite comic book heroes, he stomps towards me, grabs me by the front of my T-shirt, and lifts me into the air. _

"_Mike, the superhero!" I cackle derisively at him, utterly amused. "Mike, the brave!"_

"_Shut up!" He shakes me and I just laugh, reveling in my newly dizzied vision. "I knew you were evil, but this...This is going way too fucking far!"_

"_You underestimate me!" I chuckle. "There's so much worse that I could do!"_

"_I won't let you," he grumbles. Then he gets ballsy, lowering and releasing me, but immediately after, he cups his palms around my throat, as if to strangle me. Only mere milimeters, and his fingers tremble so much...If I was experiencing euphoria before, this is heaven! This high is an entirely new, highly addictive feeling altogether! _

"_Yeah!" I shriek. "Stop me, Mike! Put me out of my misery, hero! Do you have the balls necessary to do it?!"_

:Mike:

"_...You can't do it, can you?!"_

I can barely breathe once I regain control, my lungs on fire. Without anymore hesitation, I tear through the woods, Zoey filling the entirety of my vision. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull, praying to the adrenaline surging through me. Eyes squeezed shut, I pull, straining with every nerve and tendon in my body. I keep pulling, trying not to get overwhelmed by my quickly draining energy and the throbbing stress of the current situation.

Mal is calling out insults and laughing deliriously as he falls backwards into my brain;thankfully, he's drowned out, but the sound that voxes him out are the trilling pleas and screaming of Adam and Heather.

"Mike...!" Zoey cried.

One more pull. This last effort feels like a 50/50 shot. Taking a short breath, I know I'm ready to embrace either life or death. I want to live, but knowing that Mal could regain control at any time, I know I'll have to start seeing Dr. Renard on a regular basis again.

_My psychologist, Dr. Renard, leaned forward, steepling his fingers and looking at me hopefully. _

"_Am I speaking to Mike or Mal?" he asked, lips tucked in at the corners as he worked his jaw. _

The four of us slide further, and the pace starts picking up; my feet are sliding across the grass. Vertigo washes over me; helpless, I scream, my screaming blurring into the growing amalgum sound with the other three people screaming.

"_Mike..." I managed to sputter. My voice sounded weak at first; I wondered if I was still trapped in the mental dungeon that Mal had kept me shackled in for the past year. It felt like the ghosts of manacles were attached to my wrists. "Mike!" I bellowed, louder this time. "Mike!"_

Suddenly, somebody grabs my shoulders, somewhat roughly, and we're pulled back by a very mighty, unbelievably strong force.

"_You did it, Mike!" Dr. Renard cheered. _

_Blinking a few times, I took a long look at Dr. Renard's office: the pastel blue walls, the unnerving but vibrant abstract paintings on the wall. The entire time I surveyed my surroundings, I was charged with overwhelming, electric relief. It was me in control now; I wasn't a third person observer, helpless and at Mal's mercy. _

My eyes bug wide as I stare up at the swirl of white clouds overhead; they swirl and spin for a few seconds, then slow down to a snail's crawl...It's going to rain later on today going by how many cumulonimbus are in the current line-up...

_I heard myself chuckle a little manically. There'd always been an unsung novelty in knowing that I could open and close my fists, that I had full control, but it'd never been quite as strong and relieving as it was right now. Caught in a wave of euphoria and impulse, I leaped up from my chair and hugged my miracle-working psychologist. "I'm back, Dr. Renard, I'm back!" I hugged him tighter, wondering how my face wasn't splitting from just how wide my smile was. "I'm back and I'm here to stay! Permanently!"_

"Mike!" Zoey races into view, falling on top of me and pulling me into an embrace. She screams my name over and over, her voice rattling off into hysterics. So much of me wants to wrap my arms around her and hold on, cling to her as tightly as I would a life raft in the middle of the ocean. But, she has me wrapped up tighter than a boa constrictor's victim.

Every sensation and emotion is numb, suspended as I try to get used to the fact that I'm in control again...

"Are you two alright?" someone asked.

As embarrassed as I am to admit this, let alone think it, I'm looking into the most gorgeous green eyes I've ever seen...and they're a guy's eyes. This is the most inappropriate moment for me to question my heterosexuality.

"Yeah," I sputtered. "Y-yeah..."

Zoey pulls me up, her embrace a bit more loose now. Her mascara is running, her eyes shining with more tears, and her hair disheveled. Every other thought falls away; I lunge at her, pulling her into a tight embrace, digging my fingers into the material of her shirt.

"Please stop crying, Zoey!" I cried, bursting into tears myself as I start stroking her hair. "I'm here! I'll _always_ be here for you!"

"Oh, Mike..."

"I'll make sure you never go through anything like that _ever_ again!" I promised, kissing her forehead. "I'm so sorry...It's never going to happen again!"

"It was a freak accident, Mike..." she rationalized, sniffing. "A freak accident...I just know I'm never entering this forest again! I'll take the bad grade!"

"Zoey, there's something I need to tell you. _Now,_" I whispered as a fresh wave of tears start up.

"I like you a lot, too," she gasped, launching herself at me. Her lips smack into mine with the force of a rocket, ripping my words right out of my mouth. The fear rising and swirling around in my chest mixes with my hormones, sending my heart ratcheting through my entire body like a stray penball. So much passion and conviction in her kiss, I'm extremely reluctant to pull away.

"Get a room!" Heather complained.

Blushing furiously, Zoey pulls away from me, then turns around and shoots her a sheepish smile. As if Heather has any room to talk about public PDAs, though; she has her arm slung casually around the green-eyed hunk's shoulders, and he's holding her in a casual embrace. Then, in an incredibly surprising moment of humility, she fixes Zoey with a much softer gaze and said, "Thank you...for coming after me and Adam."

Speaking of Adam, I notice that he's off to the side, silent and sullen as he studies Heather and her boyfriend. A lump forms in my throat; Zoey isn't the only one I need to urgently talk to, but Adam, Cameron, and Artie, too.

Letting out a deep breath, I force myself to look at the green-eyed fellow again. "Thank you..."

He smiles back at me and nods simply. Something about his gaze pierces my soul; I'm strangely attracted and intimidated all at the same time, my anxiety rising as I realize with deep-seated alarm that whoever this guy is, he's Mal's next target.

_...Alejandro..._

[[[

Somehow, I managed to tell the group both about my MPD and about Mal managing to, briefly, gain control. I also told them about my concerns that if Mal took over again, his next target might be Alejandro. Thankfully, I have a huge support system now; with these four looking out for me, I'll be able to halt and prevent Mal's scheming. Zoey said that she'll be keeping a close eye on both Heather and Alejandro; Adam is going to help her when he isn't filling in for Cam and Artie to keep a close eye on me.

Originally, Zoey offered to switch her entire schedule to match mine, but I asked her to keep a level head; Mal isn't going to throw a wrench into our relationship. I told her that I want a healthy relationship with her, which means we can't spend every hour of the day together. It pains my growing infatuation with her, but I really want 'us' to work. Oh God, she's the best girl I'll ever have; her developing love is unconditional. I still feel her fingers latticed through mine, and her promise is reverberating through my mind: "I'll stay faithful to you no matter what."

She'll never know just how much that eases my mind and relieves me...Just the thought of her unyielding sweetness is enough to calm me, so much so that if I curled up in her lap like a cat and she ran her fingers through my spiky hair, I'd be in heaven.

Next, I plan on scheduling an appointment with Dr. Renard as soon as possible as well as rallying support from Vito, Svetlana, Manitoba, and Chester. I'm about to start on just those two tasks, heading for Cam's phone and then crashing on his couch for a few hours to refuel. I'm so exhausted...

"Mike...?" There's Artie, leaning against the wall and looking guilty as she folds her arms.

"What's up, Artie?"

"There's something...you really need to know." She walks up to me until there's barely a foot between the two of us. When she looks up at me, it's her natural green eyes rather than her yellow contacts. For some reason, the way she parts her lips slightly and furrows her brows is disturbingly familiar.

"Mal was my first...you know," she admitted unceremoniously, her expression serious and her eyes watering.

"What...?" I have my suspicions about what her implications are, but I'm practically enraged now. Artie is sarcastic and joking, but I could have sworn that there were distinctive lines she drew in the sand. "You're kidding, right? It's not funny-"

"I'm being dead serious!" she yelps, her eyes blazing as tears start to fall. "I wouldn't joke about something like that, Mike, _especially_ with you..." She takes a deep breath, her forehead scrunching. "It's my biggest regret...I planned on telling you about it eventually, but I really wanted to wait until I'd known both you and Zoey for awhile first."

"So...you knew about my MPD, too?"

"Yeah...Mal exploited your alternate personalities all the time." Artie looked down at the floor. "He said that you were born out of a need for a cover-up. If he had an innocent poster boy as the supposed 'true' dominant personality, he could lessen his jail sentence and get out sooner..."

Too much too fast! My heart was starting to speed up in my chest, anxiety creeping up and wrapping around me in a vise; I was tired, but now I felt like I'd drank an entire energy drink, jolting myself awake for another few hours. As Artemis looked back up at me, she looked extremely guilty, her eyes begging for forgiveness.

"At least, that was what _he_ told me..." She shrugged. "He was probably feeding me bullshit."

"Where did you meet Mal?" I asked her earnestly. I kind of wish she'd brought this up when I was talking with everybody else, but from how vulnerable and skittish she seems to be right now, it probably took a lot of nerve on her part to admit her past to me.

"At Camp Wawanawkwa the summer before my freshman year of high school..." she said distantly. "It was owned by some independently rich billionaire named Jaime Burromuerto. He wanted kids to get more proactive and shit; he was my dad's best friend in high school and...Yeah." She shook her head and let her arms fall loosely to her sides. "I shouldn't have foisted this shit on you right now..."

"No!" I grabbed her shoulder. "No, I appreciate you telling me. Anything you can tell me about Mal would be _extremely_ helpful! I only have fleeting memories of when he was in control...If you can Artie, tell me your story."

She sighed, crying, and lips trembling. "I need to tell everybody..." she muttered, her voice soft. "I can only get myself to tell this story every once in awhile. It's freaking painful and I don't want to have to repeat myself..."


	5. Chapter 5

-5

:Artemis:

Everything technically started when both my folks got laid off from their jobs and had so much trouble finding work, we could barely pay the bills or the rent. My older sister Athena, always having an uncanny shit-hit-the-fan detector offered to take us in and provide a home until my folks could find steady work.

I remember her taking me into her thin arms and hugging me. "I'm glad you're alright, Artie..."

When she pulled away, she looked at me with serious green eyes as she dug around in her pants pocket, then withdrew a pineapple shaped pendant. She gently wrapped it around my neck, hooking the clasp in the back. I looked down at it, bug-eyed, curious, and confused; that was the nicest present I'd ever received in my life!

Earnestly, she cupped my cheeks in her palms and whispered, "Don't lose this necklace."

"Why?"

"Because it's a precious symbol of our bond as sisters," she replied seriously.

"Why...is it a pineapple?"

"You'll understand someday," she answered cryptically.

And, I just took her word for it; she probably intended for it to be some sort of mystical magicky protection totem. I kid you not, I swear Athena has psychic super powers, just like my cousin Dawn! But nobody ever freaking believes me; not even Adam, and he freaking believes in aliens and hopes that one day Dr. Who's TARDIS will land in his front yard and he can hijack it for a joy ride...Sorry, sorry, tangent.

Anyway, Athena had recently married a rich-ass pretty boy named Carlos. Coincidence has it that he was the son of Pop's estranged high school best buddy- the passionate, handsome, and artistic Jaime Burromuerto (Pop painted a very rosy picture of the guy when he described him, practically to the point of admitting to a raging man-crush). Carlos got them reacquainted and reconnected. Hell, that connection is what landed my mom and dad new jobs. Just like you all owe Alejandro your lives, I owe his daddy a debt of gratitude for helping my family up out of a shit hole.

And, despite my snarky remarks, Jaime and Carlos are total sweethearts. I can't really say anything concrete about Alejandro or Jose since I've never met them in person, but from what I've heard, they sound like the rotten apples of the bunch...Watch your back Zoey, seriously! Alejandro isn't what he seems; paired up with Heather, they'll give you a double scoop of shit-tastic trouble!

[[[

Personally, I'd wanted to spend the summer vegging out, reading comic books, manga, and watching TV. Nope. No can do. Instead, it was decided that I'd be sent to Jaime's new pet project: a summer camp for pre-teens and teenagers.

It was a day and a half bus ride past the Canadian border. Camp Wawanawkwa was set up in the middle of some dense forest. Jaime didn't spare any expense. The place was pretty nice; seven oak wood cabins with two beds per cabin, the entire arrangement nestled next to a murky blue lake. Just imagine a spruced up slasher film set and you'll get the basic gist.

I remember when the counselors first gathered the exhausted, groggy lot around the campfire. There were ten of us total: three preppy and giggly girls, three obnoxious guys that were eying the girls like a rack of meat in the butcher shop window, a Goth girl with teal hair sitting next to a guy wearing a camo shirt and cradling a guitar, then the dark-haired and aloof kid, a.k.a. Mal. He sat as far away from the fire as he could get, hands clasped in his lap, the top of his red hoodie covering his face.

The entire time ice-breaking crap was going on, he was silent, making gestures and shrugging. I thought he was just shy and quiet; that he was the type that would open up more given enough time. Since I'm not exactly the friendly and compassionate type like you, Zoey, or even you, Adam, I gave the guy his space, left him to his druthers.

I found myself more often pinned to the Goth girl Gwen and the acoustic guitarist Trent, talking about horror movies, soft rock, art, and a whole bunch of other topics. Well, I talked more to Gwen than Trent, but I got to know a little about him because he was making moves on Gwen the entire summer; he was all the gal would talk about sometimes! Got a bit suffocating...

I was aware that Mal was, more or less, a lone wolf. A few times, Gwen suggested talking to him and inviting him to join our group; I admit that I usually deterred the conversation to other topics, including Trent, if I absolutely had to. My younger brother Apollo is a very private and individualistic introvert, so I assumed that Mal was, too. That if he wanted to talk and socialize, he'd approach us rather than us approach him. I don't know; I was just always unnerved by the prospect of being the first to approach him. Something about him just seemed off, but I wrote it off as an unfair, unwritten bias on my part. There's just some people you don't like and you don't really know why, you know?

Three weeks in, the camp activities started up. The camp had pretty much been an open sandbox dealio for the first two to give peeps time to get to know each other; on Monday, we gathered near the lake where five canoes had been set up. Heart leaping into my throat, I shot a somewhat hopeful look at Gwen and Trent, then a tentative one back at Mal. He had his hands crammed into the front pocket of his hoodie, expressionless as he adjusted the straps on his life jacket.

"Gwen!" I grabbed her shirt sleeve and smiled helplessly, eyebrows furrowed.

"Trent asked to speak with me privately," she whispered, her face apologetic, but her tone of voice giddy. "I promised him I would when we started canoeing today..."

Heart beating slowly, I curled my toes in my sneakers, shot an apprehensive look around. All of the other potentials had partnered up already, too.

"I wish there was an extra canoe..."

"_Mal_ doesn't have a partner," Gwen coaxed, pointing over at him.

I was silent, running my tongue nervously along the back of my teeth while Gwen fixed me with an increasingly impatient look.

"What's your problem, Artie?!" Gwen pressed. "For Pete's sake, you're acting like canoeing with him would be the worst possible thing that could happen to you!"

"Maybe I should tag along with you and Trent," I fudged, smirking. "Keep a lookout for counselors so you can perform PDAs..."

"Mal's probably a really nice guy!" Gwen encouraged. "Just a little shy is all."

I was about to bellow another quip, but she fixed me with a warning look. I sighed heavily, crammed my hands in my pockets, then shrugged. "Alright, alright..."

Gwen gave me a thumbs-up before walking towards the canoe, waiting as Trent climbed in. Lump in my throat, I turned and started trudging towards Mal. When I was close enough, he stared at me for a long second, then turned and silently climbed into the canoe. Frowning, I climbed in after him, but quickly tried to replace it with a smile. "'Sup?"

He stared at me for a long, grueling moment before quirking a small smile. "What is that, an alien language?"

I'd never heard him speak more than a few words at a time, let alone crack a joke.

"It's slang, the idiom of the species teenager," I returned, grabbing one of the oars from the floor of the canoe and carefully pulling it up and out. "We speak it to confuse and disorient adults. Ever looked at the confusing dialect of the 50's kiddos?"

"Your observation is the bee's knees, king cat daddy!" he farced back, smirking.

"Do you know Morse code, too?"

To be clever, he started knocking on the side of the canoe. He shot me a cheeky grin, raising and lowering his eyebrow several times. Part of me suspected the message could translate to something crude and obnoxious, but I didn't know Morse code, so I wouldn't know what exactly.

"Alright...Point proven, smart guy," I laughed, rolling my eyes.

"What did I just say?"

"I don't know, honestly..."

He leaned in and whispered it in my ear. Oh, God, it was so off-color and offensive, yet unfettered and pure genius! I was smiling and snickering, then the snickers became uncontrollable giggling, then outright laughter. My cheeks were bright red; he smiled conspiratorially at me, revealing the gap in his teeth.

One of the few human traits that I'm an undeniable sucker for is a strong sense of humor. I think Mal picked up on that from the way I like to tease and quip at other people. All he had to do was play my favorite game and he'd reeled me in like a fish: We spent the entire hour just sitting there, cracking jokes and making random comments, trying to undercut each other, thinking that one's joke was better than the other's, just to be dethroned the next moment.

"Ham is succulent and delicious, so why wouldn't the pig in that commercial be justified?" Mal was trying to rationalize, smiling. "The farmer probably feeds him such disgusting crap in the trough, he deserves a good and decent meal every so often!"

My cheeks were burning and my sides hurt from so much laughing. "What if the ham was Porky Pig?" I countered, grinning widely at him. "How would _Bugs Bunny_ react to that? Would the cannibalistic pig still be justified, then?"

"Bugs Bunny would be the second course," Mal chuckled, rubbing his chin. "And, at the table across from our fine hypothetical cannibalistic pig would be Daffy Duck and Scrooge McDuck..." He raised a challenging brow at me, gesturing with his open palm.

"Scrooge would be ready to dine on the latest victim of his dangerous-"

"It's time to go to the mess hall!" a counselor interrupted. It was a brunette with a short ponytail, a worried look on her face, indicating that she'd overheard Mal and I's dark humor-laced discussion. "Lunch time..." she added, her face turning a little green.

I shot a knowing look at Mal and we shared a conspiratorial smirk as he tapped his fingers together in the same fashion as a stereotypical cartoon villain.

[[[

Adam...I haven't been one hundred percent honest with you about Heather...

I have a history with her; to this day she hates my guts, probably every internal organ I have, and I'm one of the few people that her hatred towards is justified.

Every day during lunch, she'd make some sort of rude remark towards me, pretty much run-of-the-mill, generic, and uncreative shit: "The neon green streaks in your hair are so tacky! What are you, a living broccoli stalk?" "You have so much dandruff in your hair it's a snow storm...Ever heard of shampoo, cavewoman?!"

The breaking point didn't really come until one night where I returned to my cabin after skipping rocks across the lake with Mal. When I entered the cabin, I found Heather rifling under Gwen's pillow, the place where she hid her diary. Meanwhile, she had her phone out, sending text messages. A few seconds later, my phone buzzed and when I pulled it out, I found out what exactly Heather had done: She'd posted several rather incriminating and embarrassing entries from Gwen's diary.

When I looked up from the phone's screen, Heather was looking back at me with wide, deer-in-the-headlights eyes. A few seconds passed; something snapped. I rushed at her, tackling her to the hard wood floor. No hesitation when I grabbed a hank of her long raven hair and pulled, ripping it out. She shrieked at me and then started grabbing at my hair.

We both started rolling across the floor, pulling at the other's hair as hard as we could, crashing into various items. I screamed as many profanities at her as I could, anger rising and climbing, mirrored in her dark eyes. The scrap only lasted about a minute before Heather somehow escaped from me and got up, running out of the cabin and into the night. Gritting my teeth, I reached out at thin air, wishing I could summon a strong enough gravitational pull to bring her back here and punch her teeth out, one by one. Furious, I crawled up off of the floor and onto my bed, rolling over and pulling out my phone; I sent Gwen several urgent, upset text messages, but when she didn't respond, I was about to start texting Mal when Gwen walked in...weeping. "A...Artie?"

Tentatively, I rolled over and looked at her, brows furrowed. Her mascara was running and Trent stood behind her, fists clenched and absolutely furious. "How could you?!" he growled.

A weird shock igniting my system, I went back to Gwen's Facebook page and took another look at the post; those entries had been posted under..._my_ name?

"I..." I looked up, pupils shrinking to pinpoints. "I didn't do it! I'd never-I-Heather-"

"Heather...?" Gwen frowned, brows furrowing.

I nodded vehemently, gnawing on my lip. She mulled it over for a long moment, looking me directly in the eyes; I held her gaze, unwavering. "I didn't do it. I'd _never_ do something that horrible to a friend!"

"She's lying, Gwen," Trent spoke up a moment later. "She was texting when we came in...Her Facebook page was updated just a minute ago."

As she turned to look at his phone, I looked at my own screen. Horror reached up and grabbed my heart in a tight fist, squeezing as I saw more diary entries had been posted. I shifted a little on my bed and...torn paper pages tumbled out from behind the pillow, spilling onto the floor. Every single one had Gwen's distinctive handwriting on them; the moment I realized they were there, Gwen and Trent did, too. Both of them fixed me with accusatory looks; there was no way I could disprove them now.

"How could you, Artemis?" Gwen cried, a fresh wave of tears starting.

"I didn't..." I floundered.

Gwen shook her head and pointed at the door, turning towards Trent and leaning her head against his shoulder. "Get out."

"But-"

"Get out!" she and Trent bellowed at me.

I ran out into the dark night, feet pounding the grass as I rushed towards the cabin that Heather shared with her best friend Dakota. Desperate, I flung myself against the door, pounding the frame with the palms of my hands as tears started squibbling from my eyes. "Heather!" I yelled. "_Heather_!"

She opened the door and I fell back, landing on my ass. Frowning, she perched her hands on her hips, looming over me and scowling.

"Why did you do it...?" I gasped, feeling like the air was leaking out of my lungs.

"Do _what_?"

"Post Gwen's diary-"

"You're cracked in the head..." she scoffed, shaking her head. "I've looked up dirt on others before, but I wouldn't be stupid enough to post it on Facebook, like _you_..."

"I didn't do it!" I gaped.

"What are you telling _me_ that for?"

I felt like the energy had been drained from me as she just rolled her eyes and closed the door on me. Rage was thundering within me; I knew she was responsible, but I didn't have solid proof. Legs a pair of limp noodles, I stalked down the stairs, then wandered through the camp. Running my fingers through my hair, tears ran down my face as I headed towards my one ally. Maybe he'd believe me; I didn't know...

When I reached his cabin, I was ready to collapse, roll into a ball, and just die. After one knock, Mal flung the door open, took one look at my face, then pulled me into a close embrace. I let my head fall into the crook between his head and his shoulder; he ran his fingers through my hair and made several shush noises. After about a minute, I felt a lot more comfortable, unbelievably safe and happy just resting there against him like a life-sized pillow.

[[[

"How will Heather _survive_ without her precious pink nail polish?!" Mal cackled, holding the vial above his head, the moonlight reflecting off of the side of the small bottle.

I was smiling manically from where I sat on the floor, fingers a pair of claws clutching the judgmental redhead's plastic make-up kit. Glee rampaged through my veins as he threw the bottle and it smashed to pieces, the pink liquid inside spilling across the concrete floor of the girls' washroom. I ripped open the plastic kit, grabbing more of the make-up items, raising them, and then throwing them across the floor.

"The world will see her acne-ridden face!" I echoed in mock horror.

Mal chuckled, lowering himself to the floor and squatting so we were at eye level. "This is good, but we can do so much worse..."

"What did you have in mind?" I whispered, heart hammering excitedly.

He leaned in towards me, placing both hands on my shoulders. "I'm going to write Dakota's name on the bathroom stall in purple lipstick," he whispered in my ear, breath rolling down my neck. "The same shade of lipstick she borrows from Heather all the time. I can easily forge her artsy handwriting style..."

"You're a genius." A shiver ratcheted down my spine.

"Am I?" He pulled back and smirked, his expression wolfish. "Whose idea was it to wreak revenge?" Smirk growing, he leaned in closer again, making my own face splinter into a giddy grin.

"I stole the friendship necklace that Dakota made for Heather," I followed up, giggling nastily. "The one with her favorite Barbie pink and neon pink beads?"

"Show me."

I reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out the item in question. When I held it up for inspection, Mal leaned in and snapped at it like a piranha, pulling back. Then he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, drawing me in. Some absurd part of me lifted the other part of the necklace and bit it, rolling it between my teeth for a few long seconds.

The two of us pulled back, watching as the string pulled taut, stretching and stretching until it snapped. Then, the beads flew out and everywhere, bouncing off of the floor and scattering like unpopped popcorn kernels in a popcorn machine. Unexpectedly, Mal made a low throaty growl, a satisfied and sated look flashing onto his face.

"Feeling the redemption yet? The utter satisfaction...?" He narrowed his eyes.

Tainted euphoria pumped through me, making me yearn to do so much more. I was at the point where I could break the window of her cabin and chase her across camp while yelling like a banshee. Consequences be damned! Yet, that feeling mixed with another intense set of desires; my cheeks burned like fire and my fingers trembled. When I looked into those brown eyes, I was locked in, swimming and wanting to drown. I wanted to climb into his mind and wander around the M.C. Escher brand halls, arms open to every deviant thought.

He fascinated me in the worst possible way. He encouraged my idea to wreak revenge; he was the only one that understood the impetus for my Machiavellian tactics. A means to an end. The only way to defeat Heather was to stoop to her level and then just a little bit lower...

"Not quite," I replied. "Satisfied, but not redeemed..."

After that line, the conversation stopped. His lips had smacked against mine and he was pulling me in close, as close as he could until we were packed together like sardines. The kiss was awkward, neither of us really having previous experience, yet it continued. We kept trying to fit our lips together like puzzle pieces until something fit. The entire time, the hormones were dumping and I could feel electric tingles chasing up and down my spine, my arms.

It was only a minute, but that changed our relationship dynamic. My cloudy mind started sketching girly hearts around his face while I got lost in a despicable love fog. Heart beat more slowly and I wondered if I'd remember and treasure this...triumphant moment. Watching him as he took the lipstick and forged Dakota's signature on the bathroom stall.

I'd always liked the villains in cartoons better than the heroes. I was convinced that I'd found my childhood cartoon crush, League of Super Evil's Docktor Frogg, in real life...That was the happiest epiphany of my fourteen years...

[[[

Mal and I were starting to sneak out of camp when I saw Heather crawling back in, a despondent look on her face. I don't know what text message Mal sent to her and Dakota to get them out of their cabin long enough for the two of us to sneak in, but I had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with one of the guys at camp; she had been a little moony-eyed towards one of them. The one with teal eyes and wore T-shirts with a skull logo on the front, I think.

We spent the night in the surrounding forest; I remember lying in the grass at the foot of a tree, grappling between fear, sadness, and anger as the crickets chirped and the wildlife scrabbled and scrambled about. A few times, I suggested that I go back; I should own up to what I did do and prove my innocence for the other act. Running away cast me as guilty of both crimes. Yet, my ridiculous and new found feelings made Mal's persuasions that much easier and that much more enticing. I fell asleep clasped in his embrace, listening to his heart beat slowly in his chest.

[[[

Over the next month, I felt like I was watching myself from a third person perspective: I'd made the worst decision of my life, sabotaging Heather like that and then running away with Mal.

A few nights after leaving camp, I checked Facebook, looking at Heather's page; a rift had sparked up between her and Dakota. As bizarre as it was, it hadn't been started because of the bathroom fiasco, but because Dakota accused Heather of hacking my Facebook page and posting the diary entries on Facebook. I'd had an unexpected ally all along; dread knifed me at night when I imagined that innocent and cheerful blond crying herself to sleep at night, mascara running down her face. All to defend a person who had wronged her...

After awhile, I had to desert and smash my phone, to prevent getting tracked down. I was caught in indecision; I didn't want to return to camp, but I couldn't go home either. Childish naivete kept me clinging to Mal's arm and following him on his misadventure, falling into the most unexpected and wrong infatuation that I could. We ended up camping out in an empty and abandoned house in a small town a few hours away from New York City.

"_We're robbing old people...?" I burbled as Mal picked the lock on the mom and pop grocery store. _

"_It's called survival of the fittest," he replied. "Aren't you sick of eating rat meat? This is the easier and tastier alternative!"_

"_Couldn't we clean up or do a favor in-"_

"_Consider the situation we're in!" he hissed. "Everyone is our enemy, Artie."_

_The lock fell to the ground and he popped open the door. Then he extended his hand in a gentlemanly manner, waving me in with a ridiculous smile. "Ladies first?"_

Sometimes, Mal hunted; he taught me how to hunt and skin a squirrel. Other times, he picked the locks on houses or mom and pop stores, stealing canned goods or even electronics. The entire time, I played lookout or just followed blindly. I was never quite sure what Mal's overarching goal was, just that he was getting antsy, feeling like a trapped rat the longer we lived the aimless, survival-based vagrant lifestyle.

One night, we were lying in bed side by side. Usually, I curled up around Mal, taking comfort in having someone to hold and wrongly while my worries away. The guilt had washed over me to the point that I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I curled into a ball, turned away from him, and positioned myself as far away as reasonably possible. Tears ran down my face; I missed my warm house and my cartoons, my escapist bubble...

"Firecracker..." Mal called out.

_Firecracker_. That was his pet nickname for me...

"_I've decided to start calling you Firecracker."_

"_That's...interesting."_

"_You're my firecracker," he explained. "Fun, and a short pop away from a brief, vibrant explosion!"_

"Firecracker..." he said again. He placed his hand on my shoulder, tracing light circles there. Making a small sound, I rolled over and faced him, but I couldn't look at his face. I just lay there, sullen, as he traced his finger along my jawline and across the bottom of my chin. "Look at me."

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I looked up at that devious face.

Before I could reply, he launched himself at me, pulling me into a tender embrace, kissing me. He started nipping at my neck, stroking my shoulder affectionately as my cheeks burned. He found the pulse in my neck and kissed it; my heart started to speed up, beating out a steady and rhythmic tattoo. Somewhere in my mind, the beating became the bassline of a vague song.

"_Why...why did you ask me to run away with you?" I prompted Mal. "What's your goal?"_

_He was pulling his shirt off in front of a nearby window. Moonlight spilled in between the wooden planks that had been nailed there, outlining his toned muscles and arms. Drool pressed against my lips; desire surged in my chest and other bodily regions. Yawning and stretching, he turned towards me and smiled in a knowing way. "To become filthy rich and live like a king."_

"_We're living like dumpster rats!" I argued, fists clenched. "Come out during the night to scavenge, then disappear before the sun rises so that we don't get caught...I can't take it anymore!"_

"_It won't be like this much longer..." he mused, chuckling. "Don't you trust me?"_

"_I can't trust anyone else," I said hollowly, feeling my heart start aching. "You...may very well be my only friend in the world right now. I've done enough that I feel like I'll end up in jail..."_

"Firecracker..." he gasped, looking up into my face with shining eyes. "I have a proposition for you." His lips snaked into a familiar devious smirk.

"Hmmm...?" My nerves were on fire. After how crappy I'd been feeling, his light and feathery touch was a wondrous and unexpected relief. A reprieve. The emotional part of my brain was yelping that this was love, and I wanted the sweetness, to drown in the slowly building euphoria. Please, make the guilt and the sadness go away; take it away, erase it!

"_You once mentioned that you have connections with the filthy rich billionaire Jaime Burromuerto, don't you?" _

"_What...what do you want with Jaime?" I quailed. _

_Mal licked his lips. "Don't tell me you haven't wondered what you could do with that much money, Firecracker...how easy it would be to ask him to toss a little your way. He's a philanthropist; he'd pay your way through college if you asked him to. After that? Doesn't it seem unfair that you get so little? Such a small, insubstantial chunk...?"_

_I was silent, gritting my teeth and feeling the drool build up at what, exactly, he was suggesting. _

"_Think about it: Jaime's sons are set for life," he coaxed in his honey dripping voice. "Alejandro will be living in a mansion while you'll be a starving artist. He'll never have to work a day of his life. What about you-?"_

"_Shut up!" I yelped, glaring heatedly while I couldn't deny how ferociously I was salivating. "Jaime's done more than enough..."_

"_Do you honestly believe that, my sweet?" Mal smiled in a Grinch-like manner. _

"_Give me more time to think about it..." I relented, lips trembling. _

"I'll make love to you if you give me your necklace," he finished, lightly tracing my collar bone.

I thought for a few long seconds, then closed my eyes and let out a breathy: "Okay."

Then I felt the clasp being undone, counted every nanosecond the chain lightly touched and slithered across my skin before it was gone and I felt stark naked. To this day, I'm still not sure why he traded a trinket for...

But, I regret it all the same.


	6. Chapter 6

-6

:Alejandro:

"Papi!" I race down the front walk, heart rattling in my chest like a maraca. "_Papi!_"

He has someone pinned to the sidewalk, his shoulders heaving as he breathes heavily; a curtain of hair covers his face. When I get close enough, Jose grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me back, holding me still. I protest and squabble, demanding to know what's going on, but Jose just keeps shushing me. Once everything gets resolved, I'm going to stick chewed-up gum in the cap of his precious hair gel...

"...Jose, take Alejandro and Artemis inside!" Papi instructs in a somber, authoritative voice.

"I'll take Alejandro," Jose returns, his voice colder than normal. "I'm not getting anywhere near that bit-"

"_Jose!_" Papi growls.

Jose grumbles and tightens his grip on my shoulders, pushing me back towards the house. Since I know I won't be privy to any direct information anytime soon, I try to catch one more glimpse of the unfolding scene. Off to the side was someone I didn't notice before; a young girl, hunched over slightly, arms folded. That is, unfortunately, all I can make out-

"She can stand there and rot..." Jose grumbles, just low enough that she can't hear.

"What's going on...?" I demand again.

My feet feel like lead blocks. Considering the intense gravity of the situation, I would gladly follow Papi's instructions and return inside. Jose really isn't helping my jarred, jumping electron nerves by digging his fingers into my shoulders like sharp vulture talons.

"Athena's little sister is a scamming, conniving hoodlum," Jose relents. "I warned Carlos not to marry that voodoo witch..."

"Who...who is Papi holding down in a pin?"

"Mike," Jose grunts, his dark green eyes a pair of low-burning fires. "He claims his name is Mike Rorscarch."

We speed up as we reach the house. Much to my chagrin, Jose shoves me through the front door, then follows behind with a loud slam behind him. My breath starts hitching when I watch his face; it transforms almost instantaneously from fury to deep, unbridled fear. The bravest, most arrogant man I know is a little child running away from the monsters hiding under his bed...

He grabs me by the forearms, looking at me so seriously I feel like I'm having a surreal dream.

"Alejandro," he whispers, his voice a chirruping warble.

_He never calls me Alejandro..._

"Promise me," he begs, Adam's apple shivering. "Promise me that if you ever run into Mike..." He presses his forehead against mine, tears at the edges of his eyes. "Drop everything you're doing and call me. I'll come get you and take you as far away as possible. I realize we don't get along very well, _hermanito_, but I'll do everything in my power to protect you..."

My heart dropped to the toes of my boots when I saw the wash of red and blue lights outside.  
"Jose, you're...scaring me..." My voice is embarrassingly squeaky.

He sniffs and starts sobbing, drawing me into a tight embrace. All I can do is reach up and return the gesture, looking at the red and blue lights and seriously reconsidering my petty hair gel revenge plans...

[[[

The name 'Mike' started striking a deep, unnerving chord with me ever since that fateful night three years ago. I have no idea what exactly happened or who 'Mike Rorscarch' is; neither Papi or Jose will tell me. I wish they would; it would stop me from sleeping with one eye open and wearing steel-toed boots after every occasion that I meet a guy named Mike. Today has only set worse ponderings and quandaries into motion; I think I met the very Mike Rorscarch that Jose was talking about in person, even saved his life, technically.

Cold sweat breaks out on my forehead every time he pops up in my mind's eye: He's a tall, lanky beanstalk with spiky dark hair. _Dios_, I feel so conflicted. That guy looks so innocent; I saw him weeping buckets as he held his sweetheart, making the same sorts of Jesus promises that any loving boyfriend in his situation would.

But no matter what, I can't make assumptions or underestimate him, even if I am taller by an inch and outweigh him by close to fifty pounds. This is bothering me so intensely I have to know what happened that night; I need the full story and a definitive description of who the Mike Rorscarch that scared Jose so terribly is. Jose mentioned Carlos' wife Athena in passing that night...

Jose is a very prejudiced Catholic; he refers to the poor woman as 'voodoo witch' and other highly derogatory terms simply because she is a pagan. That's only one of many reasons why I hate him sometimes; Mama shouldn't be conditioning _me_ to be more openminded, but rather, Jose instead. I can _respect _different religions, traditions, and practices; I can only imagine how much worse things will get once Athena has her baby. As terrible as it might be for me to assume this, I can see Jose being the bigoted, overly proactive uncle, dragging his niece to the Catholic church as often as he can; besmirching his own religion's 'universal' meaning by trying to brainwash her into seeing it as her one and only venue for spirituality...He makes me so sick.

That aside, I intend to pay Carlos and Athena a visit today. The sooner I get some peace of mind, the better; and, the more brain space I can freely surrender to my sweetheart...

[[[

After such a close encounter with death, Heather has a legitimate excuse to skip the last class hour. Part of me is disappointed that I don't get to dance with her and playfully tease and quip back and forth, but I suppose that stems more from selfish desire for things to return to a peaceable norm rather than getting crazier and crazier by the passing hour.

"So...what are you going to do about Lightning?" Heather asks, her eyes mischievous.

Of course she wants to be ahead of everyone else in regards to that drama; she's the thirsty roots of the school's covetous grape vine, distributing the acrid juices that the students want to partake in so badly.

"I was serious when I said I was going to kick his ass," I reply.

She asked me to drive her home, a strange request since she has her own car, but of course I obliged. On my part, I think I'm getting a bit too optimistic; I'm fully aware of her true ulterior motives. Yet, the more I discover about her, the harder it is for me to resist her.

"How come I don't believe you?" she counters, a coy look on her face.

"Are you insinuating that I'm a non-confrontational pacifist?" I return. "I can be if that's what you're into."

"You could easily beat up Lightning," Heather continues, outright ignoring my teasing and stroking her chin. "Beating up Lightning wouldn't gain you much favor from the football team, though. You'd become the new scapegoat, their replacement for Lightning as the team's outsed member."

"I was originally hoping to cast myself as the team's big hero by getting Lightning and Jo to talk out their problems..." I decide to be straightforward with Heather this time around. Playful teasing just isn't as fun if she doesn't react with a death glare, gritted teeth, or angry insults.

"That's so unrealistic!" Heather scoffs. "Brilliant tactic for a newbie, but terrible in execution. It's a good thing you _didn't_ do that, Alejandro. Those two would have you trussed up and served like a Thanksgiving turkey..."

"They would have found a way to blame me for the rift between them then, too," I groan.

"So, what's your _real_ plan?" she prompts again, placing her hand on my arm and tapping her fingers.

"How do I know you won't send a text message to Lightning and rat me out?"

"How do you know I'll keep plans to go out with you to get coffee tomorrow...?"

"_I_ saved your life," I laugh, grinning. "You owe me,_ mamacita_."

"What if I want to go out for ice cream instead?" she continues, blushing as she starts running her index finger along my arm. "Or to go see a movie afterward?"

"You're determined, aren't you?" I sigh, caught between exasperation and delight.

"What do you think?" She shows me the list of contacts on her smart phone screen; only Lindsay and Beth's numbers are present.

"What do you know about Jo and Lightning?"

"They have a very weird relationship," Heather replies seriously, folding her arms. "Sometimes they're rivals, but you know they're going to the next dance together, no matter how heated things get. Sometime, I'll show you last year's yearbook: They're the class' most well-known and beloved power couple..."

She raises a brow and frowns. "Every time I see them together, they're always arguing. The only way to tell if they're 'on' or 'off' is whether or not they're holding hands or sitting together at lunch."

"They're definitely back together, then..." I roll my eyes. She's telling me things that I already derived from casual observation.

"I'm guessing they're back together because Jo's mad at Brick..."

"Brick?" I shoot a conspiratorial smile at her.

"He moved here in the spring semester last year," she supplies, eyes narrowed. "He was Jo's partner in shop class; they partnered up pretty regularly in strength training and during cross country season, too. Then, when she was in a particularly long 'off' period with Lightning last summer, she was seen hanging out with Brick."

By now, we've pulled up in front of Heather's house: She lives in a fairly impressive blond brick duplex. Judging by the house alone, I'm guessing that Heather's family is upper middle class; otherwise, she'd be considered filthy rich in the rural areas of the American Midwest.

Heather unbuckles her seat belt as I stop the car, then she places her hands on my shoulders and leans in towards my ear. "Brick's in our Spanish class," she whispers. "His dance partner is Dawn. She's been giving him advice on how to win back Jo..."

"Is there anything you _don't_ know?" I tease, reaching out and snatching a strand of her long, beautiful hair.

"Whatever I don't know, I have ways of finding out," she warns with a seductive smirk. "Remember that."

"I can't wait to see you again tomorrow..."

"Bring a story for me," she agrees as she pulls away from me.

I want to kiss her so badly, a long, tender kiss. The desire burns me like a branding iron, imprinting her name on my beating, yearning heart.

Just as she starts to exit the truck, a rusted and red car bursts through the fence on the perimeter of Heather's property. Heather hesitates and I grab her wrist, watching as the car digs into the freshly mowed grass, cutting a few circles and leaving long swathes of brown dirt behind. Finally, the car comes to a stop; I take a deep breath, realizing only now that I'd been holding it.

"Heather..." My voice is embarrassingly shaky.

She turns and looks at me with a somewhat reserved, kind of worried glance. "That's my Uncle Dan."

Then she lightly taps my shoulder and bites her lip. "Take me back to school, please? I'll the spend the weekend at Lindsay's..."

I immediately start up the car and drive away. Morbid curiosity leads me to sneak a glance at the rear view mirror, long enough to watch as a short darkhaired man in a black T-shirt walks out of the car. So many questions buzz in my mind as we drive away, but I don't ask them. About a block away, the only explanation I think I'll ever get about the mysterious Uncle Dan is given by Heather in a cryptic voice: "He taught me just about everything I know, but it took until I got older to figure out why Mom and Dad hate his guts. He's...exactly the kind of person you never want to meet and if you've had the misfortune of meeting him, you wish you didn't know him."

[[[

Heather turns and saunters out of the school auditorium with a wink. Letting out a breath, I approach Brick and Dawn. The two of them are barely dancing, moving just enough to distract Smithfield, but more focused on an intense conversation. If I want this to work, I need to be subtle...

"Excuse me?" I tap Brick lightly on the shoulder. "My dance partner went home sick and I really need to practice this week's dance move. Would you mind if I cut in for a few minutes...?"

Brick grunts and looks at his boots reluctantly. Then he fixes the pale blond and gray eyed Dawn with a confused look and gestures with a head roll at me. Thankfully, she responds with a silent and confirmatory nod and smile.

"All right," Brick affirms, gently letting go of Dawn's hand and pulling away. "I trust that you can be a gentleman? Dawn will let me know otherwise!"

I chuckle softly. "Of course. Thank you, both of you!"

"Glad to be of service!" Brick turns and walks towards Smithfield.

As soon as he's gone, Dawn fixes me with a knowing look, her normally cute and innocent demeanor becoming unexpectedly intimidating. It's as if...her big eyes are staring directly into my soul...I suppose the unnatural day has yet to reach its' most disturbing climax.

"You better drop all intentions of involving Brick in your personal revenge scheme," she warns in a subzero tone of voice.

_...How did she-?!_

"I had no-"

"That won't work on me," she grits. "Your manipulation is a thin veneer, a tool that you use since you have control issues."

"So, you can read my aura...?" I smirk a little.

Heather warned me that Dawn was a bit strange. I suspected that she might be a similar case to Carlos' wife Athena, but obviously, her abilities supersede and surpass Athena's. Athena can only detect and read auras every so often and that's only with people she knows personally. Whereas Dawn, apparently, can accurately read and dissect the auras of total strangers.

"Yes," she affirms with a bright smile. "Yes, I can."

"That doesn't mean you know what my true intentions are," I reply. "You're making assumptions."

"Leave Brick alone," Dawn asserts again, her voice that much colder than before.

"If I wanted to speak to Brick, I would have spoken with him privately," I counter, directing her into a short spin, then dipping her. "Instead, I chose to talk to _you_..."

"I'll give you a helpful hint: Don't go to the football field after school," she warns, glaring up at me. "Just ignore the two of them. Stay away."

"I didn't intend to," I challenge her as I carefully pull her back up. "Besides, what reason do you have to care? Wouldn't it benefit your personal interests for the two of them to beat me up?"

"No!" she cries, looking at me in utter disbelief. "There's no need to be so antagonistic..."

"Your goal is to keep me away from Brick, correct? So, as long as I stay away from Brick-"

"_I _ultimately plan on resolving the issue between Jo and Lightning," she finally admits. "It's about time the two of them stopped being so callous and insensitive towards each other. It not only hurts them, but it hurts the _team_. And the school. It's about time pep rallies became a cheerful and invigorating event again...Those may be the _only _high point in some of these poor students' lives..."

"So, where does Brick fit in?" I smile coyly.

She grits her teeth and blows out a long frustrated breath. Snapped the trap,_ chica_!

"It'd be in your best interests to team up with Brick and I, Alejandro," she retaliates, a blissful smile masking her true emotions. "And not just for the sake of the football team, but I could help you with another rising problem, too..."

"..._another_ problem?" My eye starts twitching as, inevitably, _Mike_ enters my mind's eye.

"You need all the allies you can get," Dawn said ominously.

..I would be ferociously attracted to Dawn if I hadn't met Heather...

"I don't think I can trust you..."

"I don't trust you either," Dawn returned, her expression openly threatening again. "But, my cause is so great I'm willing to take chances and extend the olive branch to you anyway."

"You can go back to dancing with Brick again." I gently pull away from her and fold my hands behind my back. "Thank you for being such lovely company!"

"Think about my offer..." she calls as I start walking away. "And...watch your back against my _boyfriend_ Cameron next week!"

She definitely picked up on my fleeting attraction. Human sexuality is an evolving, monstrous enigma: My heart has decided on a partner I want to become permanent, the girl that will fill my conscious thoughts and gain my exclusivity and loyalty. Yet I can't deny that a few malignant thoughts about Dawn skittered through my subconscious.

I sneak out of the auditorium when Smithfield isn't looking, then I go find Heather hiding out in the band hallway. She leans against the wall, intently studying the screen of her violet smart phone. As soon as she notices my presence, she looks up and smiles, eyebrows raised.

"...30 minutes of class to go."

Without speaking, I lean down to her level and plant a soft kiss on her cheek. She smiles wide, then places her smart phone next to her boot heel and turns to face me. Shivers ratchet down my spine as she grabs my face and launches herself at me, planting a gentle kiss on my lips.

Our first kiss. Not quite as romantic as what I'd prefer, but still enchanting nonetheless.

"Would you like some company, Heather?"

She replies by pecking me on the cheek and making me blush like a neon sign that's about to run out of gas.

[[[

Athena answers the door: She looks a bit stressed, her platinum blond hair a rat's nest and her grayish green eyes harried. "Hey Alejandro!" she trumpets with a fudged smile.

"Is...everything alright?" I prompt, despite knowing the answer already.

"Please, come inside!" she sighs, beckoning with several agitated hand gestures. "God, I wish Carlos didn't have to stay late at the office tonight..."

As soon as I enter, she slams the door shut behind her. Athena's colorful Macaw parrots start squawking and shrieking, feathers dropping and fluttering through the air. Shaking my head, I shuffle through the huge piles of newspaper clippings on the floor towards the psychedelic colored couch; I'm going to have a raging headache once I leave. If I had my druthers, I wouldn't have come here; I don't hate Athena herself for her eccentricities, but I do hate her parrots and her eye-gouging colors.

Once she calms down her birds by muttering a few phrases in Latin, she comes over to join me. As if the couch weren't bad enough, her maternity dress is a swirling rainbow tye dye; I can barely look at her! _Dios_, she has horrible fashion sense and no grasp of color theory...

"Alejandro..." she says seriously, bushy brows furrowed. "Carlos set up the extra guest rooms yesterday. When Jose comes home this week-"

"Jose's coming home?!" I yelp, and one of Athena's stupid Macaws repeats me.

"Ah..." Her eyelashes flutter, then she smiles sheepishly. "Yes...He dropped out of college and is coming home while he starts the paperwork to go to trade school instead. Actually, Carlos said he'd prefer that Jose stay with the two of us." She grabbed my arm and squeezed, biting down on her lip. "I want you here, too, Ale. Just for next week. It makes me sick to my stomach thinking about you being in that big mansion. All by yourself..."

"I'll be fine," I reassure her. What she is suggesting is the backdrop of my worst nightmares. Living in between her parrots and Jose would make my life a living hell; I finally _got rid of _Jose when he moved away to college. Why would I _willingly_ choose to live in the same space as him now?

"No!" she barks. "No, you won't be..."

"It's better that I stay as far away from Jose as I can get," I tell her in a low, grilling tone of voice. "Didn't Mama tell you how bad our spats can get...?"

"She wouldn't listen to me either," Athena cries, her eyes wild. "Ale, you _have_ to stay here next week. You're in mortal danger. I've been having nightmares; I can barely eat. Every time I've meditated this week, I can barely go for two minutes before shrieking after one of my visions..."

"I'll get better security-"

"No!"

"How would staying here keep me safer than a highly trained team of security guards?" I press, glaring at her.

Her breath hitches slightly, then she calms down and sighs, frowning. "I want all of the people Carlos and I care about in one central place," she admits, dragging her hand through her hair. "I'm sorry...Yeah, you're probably right. It'd be cramped if you stayed here. It's not just Jose coming over next week, but my parents, sister, and younger brother, too."

"Do you and Carlos have enough room for everybody?"

"Carlos and I are surrendering our room to my parents and sleeping on the futon in the sun room...Artemis is sharing a room with Jose..."

"Why are you taking such extreme measures?" I ask, the question feeling like a death sentence. It feels like the room's temperature suddenly dropped a few degrees; even Athena's insufferable parrots are quiet.

A long moment passes as she looks at the toes of her sandals, then up into my face.

"I've been having recurring visions about my younger sister's ex-boyfriend Mal Furfante kidnapping either you or Artemis and holding you hostage," she admits in a very shaky, nervous voice. "He has a gun pointed at your throat, finger hovering above the trigger as he makes a phone call to your father Jaime, demanding one billion dollars ransom."

"Mal Furfante...?" The name seems so ridiculous it can't be real. It's the Spanish word for "evil" coupled with the Italian word for "villain."

"He also goes by the name Mike Rorscarch," Athena adds. "He and Artemis tried to break into your mansion three years ago, crack open Jaime's private safe, and then steal his private funds." She looked at me earnestly, hands clasped. "I know what you're probably thinking about Artie, but please, Alejandro, be merciful. Your father let her off with a warning and you have no idea how severely Mal manipulated and crippled her both psychologically and emotionally. It took months of therapy and love to heal her broken heart and shattered psyche..."

"I want all of you to stay at the mansion," I demand, leaving no room for argument.

She looks up at me with trembling lips and shining eyes.

"There's enough room for everyone," I sigh, shifting my eyes towards the Macaws. "...including Nina Caliente, Don Lothario, and Dina Caliente."

Tears crawling down her face, Athena stumbles towards me and then hugs me, squealing like a happy pig. Already, I'm regretting my decision as the parrots start squawking and flapping their wings. If these crazy, colorful characters move in tonight, I have to make absolutely certain that Heather comes nowhere near the mansion.

I don't want her meeting the stranger, more controversial members of my family quite yet. Maybe even only once, or better yet, never, if I'm careful enough...


	7. Chapter 7

-7

:Mike:

I've been wide awake since Friday night and Artie's confession; I stayed over at Cam's house, chugging energy drinks, watching scary movies, and listening to creepy pasta stories. Unusual behavior for me, but it's kept me in control. And strangely enough, horror sates and pacifies Mal better than any other measure I could possibly employ right now. No, it's not strange; it's actually the one predictable thing that could be said about him.

Unfortunately, I won't be able to see Dr. Renard until Monday evening. I've called his personal number close to thirty different times, but every time, I get either voicemail or his irritated wife telling me not to call anymore. Because of my growing lack of sleep, I'm more and more tempted to scream into the phone: "Do you have a psycopathic alternate personality that could take control at any time?!"

She hangs up as soon as she hears my voice, though, so I probably wouldn't even get that many words out before she stopped me...

If I weren't so busy trying to prevent Mal from taking control again, I'd retreat into my mind and take care of him directly. There's been a few startling moments where I feel like I could take the horrible measure it'd take to extinguish him, but then I think about Zoey and wonder if I'd ever be able to face her again after everything has been said and done.

"Hey...Mike?" Cam looks at me, yawning and scrubbing at his eyes. "Artie and Adam are coming over. When they do, I'm going to bed because I'm tired. I'd suggest you do the same."

"Cam, I can't-"

"I don't think Mal will try and take control of a tired body," Cam reasoned, frowning. "Besides, if he tries, Adam and Artie know what to do. If things get too bad, we all promised to-"

"Call the police..." I felt a huge lump form in my throat when I imagined holding a crying Zoey's hand through the cell bars, promising that I'd be out in ten years or so. "Is Zoey coming?"

"She was the first one I texted," Cam sighed. "She'll be over later today. I would have held out until then, but...I'm just so exhausted!"

"When is she coming?"

"2 o' clock."

I looked over at the alarm clock that Cam had set up beside his bug tank; his new preying mantis peered over at me curiously. It was only a little after 8 in the morning. My heart panged a little. It was severely selfish on my part, but I really wanted Zoey here in my arms; she could erase my doubts, worries, and fears, even if for only a little while...

"I'm going to see if she can come sooner-"

"She can't," Cam cut me off. "She had to work. She really needs money to pay off that parking ticket, remember?"

"You're right..." I groaned, then patted Cam's shoulder. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful...Really, I appreciate you being here for me, buddy."

"I understand," Cam replied, pulling off his glasses. "I know how you feel, Mike. I have a-"

Enter Artie, rustling down the stairs with footfalls as heavy as an elephant's. Her hair was disheveled; the rings around her eyes eluded to her having the same sleepless night that Cam and I had experienced.

"Alright, Cam!" she said breathlessly, trying to smile, only to have it wilt a few seconds later. "Feel free to head to bed."

"Where's Adam...?"

She was silent for a full minute, mouth a thin line, hands opening and closing. The longer she didn't say anything, my stomach started to flop; I knew that of everyone in the group, Mal seemed to stir the most around Adam, even at the slightest mention of him. Even now, I could feel his irritation and annoyance. Had I fallen asleep? Had Mal-

"With Heather," she sighed, shaking her head. "They're having a long...heart to heart or something. Yeah. God forbid he shelf that shit for one minute...I hate that sonofabitch sometimes."

"That's just the lack of sleep talking!" Cam chuckled. "You can crash on the couch-"

"No." She waved her hand. "You can go get some sleep, Cam. I've pulled enough all-nighters with Adam before that I can stay awake until Zoey gets here."

"Are you sure...?" I chimed in, furrowing my brows and tapping the arm of the couch.

"Yeah," she assuaged.

"Do you want to talk, Artie?" Cam prompted as he started to head upstairs.

"I'll be fine..." she groaned, a warning edge to her voice.

"If you insist."

Cam disappeared, leaving me with, honestly, the last person I really wanted to be around right now. All night, I'd had my reservations and secret fears. The entire time that Artie had shared her story, very graphic memories had played out in my mind; I'd blushed and felt...so weird and awkward. Things were _still_ incredibly awkward. Part of me wanted to grab her and hold her in a tender embrace while another part was balking at the fact that I could think of doing anything like that with a girl that wasn't Zoey.

She was silent, not even looking at me; she stared sullenly at the wood paneled wall, her eyes distant and her lips trembling slightly.

I fixed her with a serious look, frowning. "What's going on with you and Adam?"

"No offense, but I'd rather talk to Zoey about it," she replied.

"Okay..." Sweat was beading on my forehead; my cheeks were burning.

"It's hot outside..." she mumbled, folding her arms tightly.

"I wouldn't know..." I chuckled awkwardly. "Haven't been outside yet tod-What are you doing?"

She was standing up now, walking back and forth, and stroking her chin. "Pacing."

"Why?"

"I'm thinking..."

Pacing, I understood; she probably did have a lot on her mind. I watched as she wandered towards the bug tank, biting down hard on my lip and hoping that Zoey would get off of her shift early or that Adam would show up. I'd automatically assumed that he would; he and Artie are pretty much inseparable, except for when it came to Heather, apparently...

Artie reached into the bug tank and removed the preying mantis. She was expressionless as the bug wandered up and down her arm, her eyes studying it intently. Blowing out a breath, I swallowed hard, feeling my heart beating like a drum in my chest.

_Ba-dum._

That was when Artie raised the mantis towards her face. My stomach became a bunch of twisted knots, apprehension and blood rushing as I felt like something horrible was about to happen.

_Ba-dum._

_..._In one swift movement, she'd bitten the mantis' head clean off. She was stuffing the rest of it into her mouth, chewing rapidly; I could hear her crunching, unable to pull my eyes away. Pupils shrinking, I could hear my mental screaming. But, I was silent. Just...silent.

_Ba-dum._

...Disgust raked across my entirety as she turned towards me, swallowing and then smiling crookedly and guiltily...

:Mal:

"Cameron won't be very happy about that..."

"I know..." Artemis murmured, her eyes wild. "I...I never told you this Mike, but-"

"You _still_ eat bugs, Firecracker?" I laughed, narrowing my eyes. "You're back in _civilized_ society, my dear. You can eat real people food instead of choosing between stolen goods and little creepy crawlies..."

Her lips drew downwards into a frown like a broken bow. Those green eyes start shrinking to period sized pinpricks, her face turning snow white as she succumbs to fear. She's never looked more beautiful than now, her nerves wracked and her world crumbling apart because she knows that _I'm_ back in her life.

Then she sighs heavily, brows drawn. She almost says something, then stops, her face so blank and nondescript I know that she doesn't know what to do next.

Chuckling, I stand up and walk over towards her, prop my index finger under her chin and tilt her face upwards. She's a little bit shorter than Zoey; the perfect height for my favorite kind of potential consort.

"What's wrong?" I prompt. "You aren't happy to see me...?"

"What do _you_ think?!" she quips, returning to her original gusto. "_You're_ the reason why I developed a nervous habit of eating bugsat all!"

"_You_ voluntarily chose to eat them in lieu of stolen property..." I replied, then sighed contentedly. "I didn't stop you because I found you dominating smaller, weaker members of the food chain absolutely adorable. There was an untamed and wonderful charm to it. Magical..."

"You're _romanticizing_ one of the things I hate about myself!" she cried.

"Firecracker..."

"Don't you _dare_ call me that!" she seethed, her face bright red. "Say it again and I'll stick your pet nickname for me up your asshole..."

I reached up and caressed her cheek, watching as tears gathered at the edges of her eyes.

"Quit touching me!" she yelped. "You have no goddamn right to touch me like that, you bastard. So stop it before I bite your finger clean off and eat it whole." Her eyes were wild, shining with such deep-rooted malice and hatred I knew she was serious. It was the same feeling, the same chaotic rush I'd experienced myself only a few days ago; such...unexpected and unrestrained beauty.

"It's physically impossible to bite off an entire finger," I told her calmly, snickering.

I waited for a long moment, watching as her hysteria started to die down.

"You certainly haven't lost your quick temper, have you?" I smirked at her. "You used to keep it contained around me, but I suppose I've lost your favor..."

"Let's cut the bullshit," she hissed, her voice cold. "You know exactly why you lost my favor, bastard: You took the money and ran."

"_Now_ she shows her true colors..." I clapped a hand on her shoulder and she scowled up at me. "Was it really necessary to throw me under the bus with your sob story last night?"

"It's not _that_ far from the truth," she snipped.

"Heh. I could easily break both your wrist and your legs and escape." Then I leaned in towards her ear and whispered, "And we both know you can't risk calling the police..." I fondled one of her precious pineapple shaped earrings. "Jaime's money really seduced you, didn't it my dear Firecracker? _More_ hidden blank checks? I thought you learned your lesson the first time..."

"I told you to stop touching me," she snarled, gritting her teeth.

"What can you-"

She reached up and grabbed my hand; my eyes widened when I heard loud cracking and popping. Then she let go of my hand and I stared, wide-eyed, at my now broken index finger; I looked back up at her and she'd assumed a defensive martial arts stance.

"You _bitch_."

"I could do far worse," she said sullenly. "I could _kill_ you."

"I'd like to see you try..."

"I would if Mike weren't there," she hissed.

"Took you long enough to-"

:Artemis:

Mal slumped forward, fell to his knees, then face-first into the puce carpeting. Breathing heavily, my heart was a rumbling storm cloud in my chest, lightning zapping my nervous system with adrenaline and thunder roaring in my ears. I felt a spike of relief, but I knew I was still in deep shit; Cam stood right behind the now unconscious Mal, his arms folded and an angry look on his face.

"What else are you hiding, Artie?" he demanded.

God...I'm busted. I'm so busted.

"All right, Cam," I sighed. "I did far more than destroy friendship bracelets...I broke Heather's hairbrush, burned her clothes, tossed a stink bomb in her cabin one time...You guys really have no idea how bad my rivalry with Heather is..."

He raised a brow, tapping his forearm impatiently. Of course he could care less about that right now.

"...I tried to steal a million dollars from Jaime three years ago. I kept a blank check hidden in my pineapple locket..."

"You have others hidden in your earrings, don't you?" A knife stabbed me in the heart at the accusation in his voice. Of course he doesn't believe me; after he tells everybody else about the details I left out, I'll lose credibility with them, too. My friendship with Adam is already a string pulled so taut it could snap at any second.

Lump in my throat, I reach up and remove my earrings, willingly handing them over to Cam. He looks at me with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. I just let the earrings speak for themselves, letting Cam pop them open and remove my photo reel of the pictures Adam and I took at comic con last year. The ones where he cosplayed as the 4th Dr. Who and I cosplayed as Elizabeth from BioShock Infinite. He tried to get me to go as the humanized TARDIS, but we managed to compromise on Elizabeth, due to her being a fellow time-space manipulator...

I can't help smiling like an idiot when I think of him wearing that multicolored scarf; he was _so_ handsome. Mmm, I hope I can smooth things out to the point that I could convince him to wear it again someday.

"Cam..." I groaned. "Please don't tell Adam?"

"Why didn't you just tell us the other details last night?" Cam cried. "I...I don't know if I can trust you anymore!"

I furrowed my brows and looked down at the tops of my Converse. "I'll tell Adam and Zoey in person as soon as they get here and...and then I'll just go..."  
"Why did you do it?" Cam persisted, frowning. "You seem to hold such high respect for Jaime. Why would you...?"

Cameron, I was probably the most delusional, cartoon-obsessed fourteen-year-old in the world. There's more than a few screws loose in my head; it was like that before I ever even met Mal, but he really didn't help anything. And, as much as I hate to admit it, he led to me becoming more grounded and down-to-earth. I'll always be irrational and harebrained, but not as bad as I was three years ago...

Taking a deep breath, I felt my cheeks flare up as I admitted, "I wanted to buy my own island and build a Mojo Jojo style lair on top...Mal and I used to discuss it at long length, calling it our 'early retirement plan.'"

"_...I'd hire an entire team of scientists to create deadly viruses!" Mal bragged passionately, smiling. "With our volcano lair, we could be far away from society, silently plotting the slow degradation of society...Making plans to take over someday. I'd be their ruler, their king!"_

_At the time, I assumed that Mal was getting lost in a surreal empowerment fantasy, similar to what I liked to do when I was daydreaming or otherwise. He was at his happiest here, grinning contentedly; he leaned against a strong oak, arms folded behind his head and legs crossed. _

"_So you'd be the world's dictator?" I baited, smiling fondly at him. _

"_Dictator has such negative connotations...," he replied. "I see myself more as...the gently guiding hand. People are stupid, my dear. They need someone to guide and help them out."_

_His response floored me. I thought we'd just been having a cavalier discussion, the same bullshitting as saying that Double D had a mutated cyclops eye under his hat or what might happen if Scooby and Shaggy from Scooby Doo became crazy zombies that ate Fred and Daphne, and then infected Velma. _

"_That's the mentality of a dictator..." _

"_Is it wrong?" Mal challenged, frowning. "Look at how horribly people abuse their free will: Wasting their lives drinking alcohol, being stuck in a dead-end job..."_

"_Not everyone is a strong, independent thinker with the same opportunities as Henry David Thoreau!" I snapped. "Just because someone doesn't live up to your standards doesn't mean you have the right to change them or control them."_

"_Who fed you that claptrap...?" Mal chuckled, then smirked. "You don't honestly believe that. If you did, you wouldn't constantly be challenging Heather's opinions, now would you?"_

_He leaned towards me, his eyes keen and pensive. _

"_How many times have you told me that you wanted to take her down a few pegs...?" he observed. "You say that if you wounded her pride enough, you'd make her realize how rude, horrible, and callous her behavior towards others is. You wanted to change and mold her to your standards."_

"_Somebody needed to challenge that bitch..."_

"_Are you truly the libertarian you portray yourself as?" Mal chuckled. _

_I groaned and sucked in my lips, staring down at my shoes as familiar guilt started rolling in my stomach again..._

Cam fixed me with a deadpan expression; he knew me well enough to know that I was telling the truth, but my confession had lessened his personal opinion of me greatly...

"All of us are having a very long and serious discussion with you later, Artie," he groaned, shaking his head.

"Don't tell Adam about the pictures...?"

"I can only handle one psychological issue at a time," Cam sighed.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" I yelped, cheeks turning red with utter embarrassment.

"We obviously can't wait for Dr. Renard..." Cam dug in, changing gears. "I'm calling in somebody else."

"Who...?"

"My girlfriend Dawn!" he said with a slightly giddy, but adorable smile. "Maybe she can help Mike out with her spiritual connections...Do you think you could get your older sis-"

"Last resort!" I warned, shaking my head. "I've been taking huge gambles not telling her that I've been hanging out with Mike...She'd freak if she knew what was going on. I'm already on thin ice with her as it is; she's locked up everybody in our family, including her in laws...She's figured out that Mal's back, Cam."

"Would she help?" Cam returned earnestly, frowning as he started punching out a message on his phone.

"No..." I admitted.

Cam stopped right in the middle of what he was doing and looked up at me, surprised.

"She believes in sacrificing one for the cause of the greater good," I sighed. "She wouldn't even stop to consider Mike if it meant getting rid of Mal permanently."

"You care that Mike's there!" Cam protested. "You could convince her-"

I shook my head. What you're asking is absolutely impossible, Cam. Most people think that Athena is an eccentric peace-loving and pacifist hippie. Nope. If everyone had seen the rant she went on the night Mal was dragged off to prison; she cursed and made several harried, hectic motions with her hands, declaring that if she could, she'd execute Mal French Revolution style. The woman can hold a ferocious grudge; it was so bad that she had to take anger management classes back in 2009. Strangely enough, those very classes are where she met Carlos for the very first time; he asked her out on their first date after some short angry man had incited the class to a riot and they destroyed the teacher's car...

It's a very long and weird story. Long story short, though, anger management wouldn't be anywhere near close enough to curb my sister's rage around Mal. It both terrifies and flatters me...

"Trust me, Cam. She wouldn't cooperate..." I frowned. "There's a reason why I refuse to let you guys come over to my house: I'm scared that Athena will be visiting. She'd chase Mike with a butcher's knife..."

"Artie-"

"I'm being serious."

"Dawn's going to ask for a second person to accompany her into Mike's mind."

"You wanted to ask my _pregnant_ older sister?!" I balked, glaring daggers at him.

"I didn't know she was pregnant!" Cam protested. He calmed down then started massaging his forehead, casting another glance at his phone. "I was hoping Athena could cooperate since she has similar abilities and expertise to Dawn..."

"Tell Zoey to get her ass over here," I replied, brows furrowed. "Out of the lot of us, you or Zoey would be the best bet on making sure that Mike's the one in control when he wakes back up."

He looked up at me, nervous.

He had so much to worry about; he probably didn't trust me, potentially, to be the only one watching over him, Dawn, and Mike as he ventured with Dawn into God-knows-where. So many more daggers piercing my heart at that realization. With a shuddering breath, I grabbed his shoulders and stared directly into his dark eyes.

"Cameron," I said, trying to keep my voice from warbling. "Judge me for the person you know now. Please..."

"I can't, because you haven't changed as much as you keep trying to tell me." He held up a red credit card with Alejandro's name on the front.

_Oh God...That fell out of my wallet..._


	8. Chapter 8

-8

:Adam:

When I was eight, my 'rents and I lived in a very small neighborhood here in Cress. The only other kid my age living there was Heather so we got to know each other by default, really. Both of us were kind of stand-offish and outspoken; she wanted to be in charge of everybody and everything while I wanted to sit by myself and get lost in the caverns of my own mind. In retrospect, we bonded out of closeness and convenience more than anything else.

We usually ended up playing with her extensive Barbie doll collection. She had several Ken dolls, but every time, she always pulled out one very specific doll that wasn't made by Mattel at all. It was a hand-sewn and crafted plush toy with Spanish orange skin, dark brown felt hair, and a red shirt; she called him "Alejandro."

I usually had to be the one to portray him; and she had a very specific vision of who he was and how he behaved, too. He was Mr. Perfect, more or less, a knight in shining armor that saved the other Barbies from evil aliens, jealous ex-wives, evil business tycoons, envious high-profile models, and, the only aspect that really kept me participating at all, my Dalek action figures. In essence, Alejandro was Heather's favorite fictitious hero, similarly to what the 4th Doctor is to me.

For the longest time, I assumed that he was her imaginary friend or something, until one day I found something poking out from under her pillow. It was an 8x10 photo of a smiling green-eyed brunette, a kid that held a very striking resemblance to Heather's favorite toy...

"Alejandro's real?" I prompted her, holding up the photo.

Her face was bright red, the same shade as a ripe tomato. Angrily, she stomped up to me, mashed my toes with the heel of her shoe, then pried the picture from my fingers.

"What was that-?"

"Don't mess with my stuff!" she cried.

"I'm sorry..." I whimpered, backing away from her.

"Alejandro...was my pen pal," she admitted sheepishly. "I have a huge crush on him, okay? If you tell anybody, I'll-"

"I won't tell!" Now my face was dark red, imagining her giving me a wet willie or something. My heart roared in my ears like a distant tidal wave.

"Good."

"Do you still write to him?" I followed up, curiosity getting the better of me. I started imagining him flying through the air, shooting laser beams from his eyes and stuff. It'd be so super cool if her pen pal was a real life superhero as she imagined him to be!

"No..." she sighed, starting to cry. "He moved and I lost his address..."

"I'll help try and find it!"

"I've tried-"

"We'll find it!" I encouraged, smiling at her. "With two people looking, we'll find it!"

I did find the letter she'd been looking for, with the address and everything. When I'd read it, I discovered Alejandro admitted to developing a crush on Heather, too, as well as saying that he and his family were moving to New York City. Only an hour away from Cress...

This bothered me on a subliminal level. While part of me wondered what it'd be like to hang out with a superhero, another part warned me that if she knew this, I'd lose my best friend...So, I hid the letter from her and fudged that I just couldn't find it. After that, Heather's crush on Alejandro started to erode and wear away. Without Alejandro around, nobody could possibly take her from me or ruin our friendship.

[[[

I've always loved red, white, and blue rocket Popsicles. There's always two boxes in the freezer, whether Mom and Dad got one to pleasantly surprise me or I bought one to sate my horrible fix. My after-school routine from third grade through fifth grade was: flag down Heather in the school hallway, go over to my house, nab the prerequisite Popsicle, then watch an hour or so of Dr. Who, Star Trek, or a movie.

Throughout fourth and fifth grade, she became more participatory in my interests; I remember watching her dark eyes light up every time she saw the primitive, but highly intelligent and adaptive Leela come on screen when we watched the Tom Baker series of Dr. Who episodes. Every discussion we had was an intense discourse on what it meant to be a Vulcan, how the 4th Doctor found so many different uses for his scarf, etc. Because of that, fourth grade and sometime into fifth was the happiest year and a half of my life.

I admit it: That's when I started crushing on her. I had dreams where I was Andred and she was Leela; she gave up her life of intense adventures to settle down with me. Those were usually followed by far more mundane and the rare real-life based dreams I had every so often. We were teenagers at the prom and in those, I was a younger Captain Kirk while she was a knockout in red. It got to the point where I'd convinced myself that _I_ could replace Alejandro as the object of her affections.

When my heart was close to bursting, I told myself I just had to wait. If I held out for six more years, I'd grow into a bigger, stronger, and sexier guy. Only then I could admit my feelings and because I was so attractive, Heather couldn't turn me down. For now, I'd just be as good a friend as I possibly could be; we could just continue bonding over mutual interests and Popsicles...

The biggest obstacle to my plan arrived halfway through sixth grade: the pink-loving, green-eyed, and blond Dakota. The moment she met Heather, she pulled out a big make-up kit, snapped it open, and started avidly discussing make-up with her. I noticed them in the hallway and walked over, wondering if the blond girl might be another possible Whovian or Trekkie.

"You know...you'd look good with glittery pink lip gloss," she was telling Heather, her own lips smeared with a ridiculous amount of the stuff.

"Do you have the lipstick version of the sonic screwdriver in your kit?" I asked, smiling wide.

"Adam!" Heather hissed.

"Or maybe a compact that shoots laser beams?" I followed up, my smile almost splitting my face.

This time, Heather stomped roughly on my toes, her rude way of telling me to shut up or acquiesce to her demands. She'd gotten more mean and aggressive since her Uncle Dan visited earlier this year; vaguely, I remembered him ruffling my hair and giving the strange comment, "So, you _have_ found your own Chris to boss around, eh, Heather?"

"Just ignore him," Heather growled.

"A compact that shoots laser beams does sound pretty cool!" Dakota replied, pencil thin eyebrows raised.

"See?" I shot a victorious glance at Heather. "Hey Dakota, wanna come over after school and watch-"

"America's Next Top Model?" Heather cut me off.

Dakota's eyes became big, shining orbs and she was wearing a huge smile. "Yes!"

I was a bit disappointed, but hey, I'm open-minded and can get lost in the chasm of my own mind if I get bored. "Hey Heather-"

"Girls only," Heather insisted.

"But-"

"She has a point..." Dakota backed her up, but guiltily. "Guys just don't get fashion..."

"How do _you_ know?" I protested. "There's male fashion-"

"_Those_ men are older, civilized, and cultured," Heather returned, brows arched. "Besides, you'd complain about not getting to watch Dr. Who or Star Trek!"

"No!"

"Yeah," Heather barked. "Yeah, you would. And besides, I need a_ girl_ friend to do _girl_ stuff with, Adam. Give me some space!"

"Tomorrow, maybe?"

"Heather and I are getting mani-pedis then," Dakota said apologetically. "My dad gets those sometimes, so couldn't he join us then, Heath-?"

"No," she interjected, glaring at me.

"Friday?"

"Shopping."

"Saturday?"

"Maybe."

For the next three days, the raspberry and blueberry artificial flavoring of my favorite Popsicles just didn't taste the same. Instead, eating one of them without Heather there felt like betrayal. A few times, I could swear I could see the leftover imprint of her butt on the light gray couch. When Saturday rolled around, the TV was turned to cartoons and I hovered near the phone, staring helplessly and impatiently at the caller ID. Two hours passed and then I dialed her home phone.

It rung close to thirty times before going to voicemail. Then, Heather's recorded voice told me, "Dakota, Lindsay, Beth, and I are having a sleepover...You're _not_ invited, Adam."

I dropped the phone on the end table and turned off the TV, sitting there and staring blankly at the wall as the phone's feedback became the only noise in the room. The sound kept growing and intensifying, until I felt like it was the garbled version of the anguished, keening cries echoing throughout the antechamber of my mind...

[[[

I tried so hard to get Heather to hang out with me again, but she found more and more ways to avoid and vox me out. Throughout seventh and eighth grade, I just stopped trying; I watched her from a distance, pining for her so strongly I felt hollowed out inside. Somehow, I managed to keep this to myself, though, branching out and finding new friends in the form of Sam and Harold.

Sam introduced me to video games; a new past time that whiled away my evenings. Of course I could never beat him due to how much more time and experience he had over me, but I couldn't help trying. When we weren't playing video games, Harold was introducing us to 70s kung-fu movies or asking us for our opinions of the newest project he was working on; Harold was a multi-talented and ambitious man that wanted to take on the world! His attitude was infectious.

Everything changed again freshman year when Sam started going out with Heather's now ex-best friend Dakota. He was so secretive about it for the first few weeks, bailing on several game nights, but eventually he fessed up. Both Harold and I didn't get why he didn't just admit to it sooner;_ any_ guy would be lucky to have Dakota. She's a ten in both looks and personality.

For awhile, Harold and I just had to deal with Sam sectioning up his free time; he was fair, making sure that we still had nights dedicated to just the guys. Then, Harold met LaShawna. He wasn't quite as considerate and levelheaded as Sam. Infatuation took hold of him so strongly, he ditched Sam and I entirely for close to a month.

Since she and Sam felt like I was getting left out, Dakota decided to make it her mission to find me a girlfriend. Part of me was furious, but the sliver of me that had been getting especially envious and resentful of Sam and Harold relented.

I remember sitting with her and Sam at the mall. She was looking at every passing girl with a skeptic eye, nodding, and tapping her chin. Then she looked towards me with a big, megawatt smile.

"So, Adam, what are you looking for in a girl?"

The moment she asked, Heather entered my mind and I started blushing furiously. "I want a girl that's nice, but abrasive and aggressive. A confident girl that knows what she wants and takes charge!"

"Adam," she sighed, folding her arms. "You need to get over Heather."

"That description isn't exclusive to just Heather!" I protested.

"It describes her to a T," Dakota replied, eyes narrowed. "Trust me, Adam. You can find someone way better than her. If you were dating her, she'd be mean, walk all over you like a doormat, and treat you like crap!"

"How do _you_ know?" I growled, blushing ferociously. My teeth were gritted, heart pounding against my rib cage and rattling it.

"That's the way she treated _me_..." Dakota said softly. "Why do you think we stopped being friends?"

I knew she was right and I felt horrible for slighting her. Dakota had gotten to know Heather as she'd started transforming into a cold, relentless monster. Regardless, I couldn't help being kind of defensive; the things unrequited love does to a guy.

"I'm sorry..."

"It's not your fault," she said with a shrug. "I'm just trying to help you out, give you some friendly advice."

"How bad...has she gotten?"

"She...she ruined my reputation at school," Dakota whimpered. "She called me a...a..."

"She's called me creepy little bastard, Freakazoid's missing cousin, and...quite frankly other fairly uncreative names," I returned, laughing a little. "She's not a very effective trash talker."

"She spreads rumors," Dakota replied, frowning. "It's what she can _do_ rather than what she _says_."

"Who cares what everybody else thinks of you?"

"You don't get it," Dakota groaned. "She targets the people you _do_ care about. For example, there were two girls at summer camp she really didn't get along with. She broke up one girl and her boyfriend, then the other..." Dakota fiddled with her fingers. "She framed the other as a cyber bully."

"Holy crap! Seriously...?"

"She tried to do the same to me!" Dakota cried. "Recorded phone conversations between her other friend Beth and her bf Brady were posted on Facebook under _my_ name!"

The tension was escalating quickly, my heartbeat increasing that much more. Would Heather really stoop so low? While I really wanted to ask further questions, it looked like Dakota was on the brink of tears, shaking as if she were cold. The horribly curious side of me won out against my better judgment.

"Has she done this to anyone else?"

"Let's _stop_ discussing her," Sam interjected, looking up from his DS. He closed the lid and grabbed Dakota by the shoulder, pulling her into a small hug. As Dakota closed her eyes and started taking several deep breaths, Sam shot a glare at me.

Okay, looks like my big mouth got me in trouble again...

Dakota took a few minutes to calm down, engaging in several breathing exercises. Then she pumped her arms, took one last deep breath, and announced, "Today, you're going to find a girl and ask her out on a date!"

My eyes widened and from the way Dakota started snickering, followed by a few chuckles from Sam, I guess my facial expression was funny. I've been told that I have a very expressive, and hilariously so, face.

"That's...that's pretty ambitious..."

"Then let's aim for you getting her number instead, then," Dakota amended.

"I don't know-"

"You have to have some way of getting in contact with her if you're ever gonna ask her out on a date!" she insisted.

"Hey Sam!" I started tugging at the collar of my button down shirt. "How did you summon up the courage to ask out Dakota?"

The big lug didn't even look up from his DS as he responded, "We met at one of her dad's parties, started talking and texting, and then it just..." He smiled a little. "Technically, Dakota asked _me_ out."

Blushing, Dakota nuzzled Sam's arm, then turned to me again. "That's another possibility, Adam. She might ask _you_ out!"

"Ah..." I started playing with the top button of my shirt. For the thousandth time, I was starting to get extremely reluctant about following through with this. Honestly, I wanted to go back to discussing Heather and how evil she had become; that seemed like a far more feasible topic than me getting a girlfriend.

"Okay Adam, I'll play your wing woman!" Dakota encouraged, standing up and stretching. "Go into the GameStop over there...A really cute redhead just walked in!"

"Um...Dakota?" Sam frowned up at her. "That redhead was a sixth grader. Not to mention, she was with a bluehaired kid in a knitted cap."

"You're uncannily talented at multi-tasking!" I replied, shooting a look between Sam and the slightly baffled Dakota.

"There might be other cute girls!" Dakota backpedaled. "Just go in and look!" She grabbed me by the forearm, then pushed me in the direction of the GameStop. Nerves started jarring as I took several steps over. Usually, I came here with Sam with the intention of browsing the shelves and then just leaving.

Something just wasn't sitting well with me about this. My intestines were a huge twisted knot and I started pondering the possibility of playing third wheel or...just finding other buddies to hang out with. No matter what Dakota said, my heart belonged to-

A voice suddenly rang out through the mall; a voice that to my ears was that of a siren that could lure men and crash ships. And similarly to those hapless and unfortunate sailors of myth, I was reeled in, along with many others, towards a small stage that had been set up in the very center of the mall. A colorful sign above the stage read "Karaoke" in very bold, blocky text.

A fairly short girl stood in the center of the stage, grasping the microphone and bellowing into it with her angelic voice. She had short sandy blond hair, her bangs covering one eye and the one revealed eye was dark green. She was wearing a blue T-shirt with Adventure Time's Finn the human on it, and appropriately enough, she was singing Gary Portnoy's _Cheers_ theme.

When she finished, she promptly ditched the stage, avoiding the gaze of her newly won fans. Unfortunately, I was too far away to see her face clearly, but I could swear she was blushing. For reasons even I can't identify, I was drawn away from the crowd and over towards her, as if there was some sort of strong magnetic pull between the two of us.

When I was close enough, she looked up at me, confused. Our eyes locked for a long, awkward moment, then she looked away, shaking her head and...starting to walk away.

"Hey!" I called towards her, my voice kind of raspy. "Hey, you're a great singer..."

"Thanks." She gave me a small smile. "I don't give autographs...I might be willing to change my mind for some green, though." For emphasis, she extended her hand and rubbed her fingers together.

"No way!" I laughed.

"Stingy, greedy bastard!" she commented with a big cheeky grin before extending her hand. "The name's Artemis. In case you wanted to put it up in bright neon lights!"

"The name's Ricci, Adam Ricci," I replied, taking her hand and shaking it once while attempting a coy eyebrow wiggle.

"A James Bond reference? Really?"

"I've effectively learned how to do Spock's 'live long and prosper' hand gesture," I countered. "Does _that_ impress you?"

In response, she raised her hand and spread her index and middle finger from her forefinger and pinky. "Does that answer your question, Captain?"

_Oh, God...have I just met my dream girl?_

"You've certainly impressed me!"

"Then...you're _way_ too easily impressed," she snickered. "So...doing anything later?"

"All yours, milady."

"Perfect!" She winked at me and then lightly brushed my shoulder. "Simply perfect."

[[[

What most people don't know about Artie and I...We've pretty much friendzoned each other.

After we first met at the mall, we went out a few times, one time having an exclusive Dr. Who marathon at my house that resulted in a very intense make-out session.

We went out for three weeks, feeling intense attraction, but both of us knew we weren't clicking quite right. In the end, Artie admitted to me that she wasn't over her ex quite yet and I admitted to still harboring a behemoth crush on Heather. While I entertained the idea of continuing something with Artemis, we agreed to stay strictly out of the friends with benefits arena. Sometimes all I can think about at night are Artie's lips and how badly I want to be holding her next to me; it's brutal.

I probably ruined whatever chances I have of sparking up any kind of romance with her ever again...

It's our junior year of high school and I had that dream I used to have every other week at age eight. This time, though, I felt intensely turned on, anxious, and as if I'd had a major epiphany. From then on, I started dedicating every waking moment to making that childhood dream a reality. My feelings were a blazing, desperate sun, keeping me galloping towards...something.

Day might have been all about Heather, but evenings and nights, my brain was filled with Artie. I dreamed about her; every time she was near, I wanted to hug her tightly, take her hand, and just declare that I was ready to move on. My longing for her is more intense than my pining for Heather; it's not just a desire, it's a dire need. It feels like if I can't fix things with Artie, I've lost the last chance I may ever have at love. She's been my personal miracle; the greatest person I've ever known. If I'd met her first, I wouldn't even give Heather a passing glance...

Friendzoning Artemis? Biggest fuck-up of my entire life.

[[[

If there's any quantitative proof of fate, it's the fact that Heather's beloved childhood pen pal returned to her life this very week and captured her heart yet again. As I study their faces, I wonder if either one of them remembers, or if that little nugget of information has even clicked. Cam would say that it has on a subconscious level, hence why Alejandro held a pre-emptive advantage over every other pretty boy that would try and ask Heather out...

"Adam..." Heather harrumphed. "You're interrupting my date."

I remembered last night vividly: Artemis' red face, the tears pouring from her eyes. The way she'd held onto me, burying her face in the material of my shirt.

"I...I wanted to thank you for coming after me the other day," I told her, looking directly into those gorgeous dark eyes. "If it weren't for you and Alejandro, I'd be dead."

"Of course I went after you..." Her face had softened to the point I could swear she was somebody else entirely. "You were my first good friend."

"We were," I pressed, folding my arms and sighing. "_Were_ friends."

"What do you want, Adam?" she prompted, folding her own arms. "Why are you here?"

"I told you why."

She shot me a look, followed by Alejandro sizing me up. That stare was almost as lethal as a laser beam, intimidating me. _There'd actually been a time where I was considering challenging him...?_

Heather's question repeated again in my mind and everything became clear. Blowing out a breath, I approached Alejandro with a few meaningful, confident steps, took his hand, and shook it. "Live long and prosper."

Then I let go of his hand, turned, and exited the big mansion. The sunlight felt feather light and carefree, a stark contrast to the two pairs of eyes glaring at me from the front window. As I got farther away, I opened and closed my hand. There was a long swathe of dirt in front of Heather's house, the telltale sign that Uncle Dan had visited fairly recently. Smiling, I spat on it, then took off at a brisk jog.

_Heather's Uncle Dan could go rot in hell..._

[[[

When I arrived at Cam's house, Mike's prostrate form on the floor and the presence of Artie's moony eyed cousin was enough to illustrate that weird stuff was about to happen. Maybe her theory about her older sister and cousin having psychic powers really did have more merit and credibility to it than I was willing to give previously. No matter what comes out of that wingnut's mouth, I'll be open-minded; I'll do whatever it takes to win her over.

I spot her sitting on the couch, palm covering her eyes as she massages her forehead with her index finger. Time starts slowing down as Cam opens his mouth to say something.

I just ignore it all, launching myself at Artie, pulling her hand away from her face, and smacking my lips against hers. Then I wrap my arms around her and pull her closer, but instead of feeling her arms wrap back around me, she remains stiff as a board. When I finally pull back, I'm expecting her to tell me what a piece of shit I am...

"You chose the _worst_ possible time to do that," she announced unceremoniously.


End file.
